Death Scythes And Glasses
by Unconscious Again
Summary: Having a grinning madman as a subordinate is never easy, but William figures he manages alright. Now if only Sutcliff would stop distracting him, the London Division might actually get work done in a timely manner. A fifty prompt Grelliam challenge done for Hello Kitty01's One Ship Boot Camp.
1. Chapter One: Ghost

**Greetings Earthlings! Soooo, seeing as I'm now part of Hello Kitty01's wonderful "General Fanfiction Challenges" forum; I've decided to take up the One Ship Boot Camp challenge. This is a 50 prompt challenge for any ship (I chose Grelliam), and hopefully I'll update every couple of days. Also, these are (for the most part) in chronological order.**

 **Quick note: I'll say this once and once only, and skip if you don't care, but about Grell's gender. As I (and, I believe, the author) see Grell as a trans female, when it's Grell's POV she will refer to herself as "she/her". However, when in William's POV, she will be referred to as male, as in canon Will only ever refers to her using the masculine pronouns. This mean that if a chapter starts out in Will's POV, but has a flashback in Grell's POV, the pronouns will change partway through the chapter. I will be addressing Will's pronoun confusion in due time, but for now, he calls her "he/him".**

 **Warning: As I am caught up with the manga and the anime, I don't know how much I will or will not be spoiling. Nothing much in chapter one besides the Will the Reaper anime-only OVA, but I'll let you know on a chapterly basis.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji, nor will I ever. I can dream, but... nope.**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

 **Death Scythes and Glasses**

 **.**

 **Ghost**

 **:::**

William T. Spears was an orderly man. Professional, calm, he did his duty with much efficiency and minimum complaint. But occasionally Grell caught a glimpse of the man beneath the mask. And that man was _fascinating_.

The reaper had first seen it during their final exam together. The rule-compliant B average student? How dreadfully boring. The redhead had been perfectly prepared to reap their target and be done with it, but Will had forced her to stay her hand.

And then the complete maniac had gone off and revealed himself to the man they were to reap. It wasn't expected, not by a long shot, and thinking back on it Grell giggled at her reaction to her partner's rash act. She _had_ wanted to kill him back then, hadn't she? In any case, the target turned out not to be nearly as boorish a person as she thought he was going to be, so perhaps a little good had come from the encounter.

And then, of course, there was the reaping itself. What a momentous occurrence that was; a cinematic record coming to life. Even now, she had only seen two others act that way, and both were of particularly important figures in history. One had even tried to strangle poor Ronnie in an attempt to free itself during the reaping.

In any case, herself and William had somehow managed to collect their target's record, and she had obtained a friend along with it. She had always hesitated to use the term, because it _was_ Will darling she was speaking of, however, infatuation was the only other word she could think of and it didn't quite fit. Infatuation on her part, certainly, she reflected, grinning sharply, but also something different. Perhaps he didn't think of her as a friend, per se, but the redhead doubted he consciously thought of anyone as such, and he had put up with her throughout the centuries so she would say that counted.

And throughout those centuries Grell certainly had seen some interesting glimpses of William's personality that hid behind all that order and irritation. For example, an absolutely delightful menace that he let slip on occasion, but also those few signs she saw (or perhaps merely imagined?) once in a blue moon that showed that the stoic man actually had some semblance of warmth hidden behind his glasses.

Like at the end of the Jack the Ripper incident. Despite his constant complaints about being understaffed, the division _had_ had an influx of new employees at the time; reapers fresh out the academy, terribly fun to play jokes on. Any one of them could have easily covered so a less important coworker more experienced in dealing with her could have dragged her back home, kicking and screaming. But no, William came to do it himself. Quite an interesting choice on his part, Grell mused.

But perhaps she was overthinking it. The idea was laughable; Grell Sutcliff, the lady in red, thinking through something logically? _Over_ thinking it, even? But even an actress could have her doubts, she supposed. Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill, with her ideas of hidden sides and friendship. Perhaps there was none to be found, and she was merely a person who wanted companionship so badly that she saw it everywhere-

 _Whap._

" _Ouch!_ Who just hit me with their... Pruning.. pole? Will darling, whatever are you doing here?"

The man walked up next to where she was sitting at her desk stepping cautiously around where her chainsaw was lying against the wall. "Sutcliff, get back to work. We're shorthanded enough without a reaper who can be efficient when he chooses having an existential crisis. Return to your paperwork."

Grell blinked. "I'm not having an existential crisis!" she protested loudly, straightening up from the lounging position she had adopted while thinking. "I haven't had one of those in years!"

William sighed, pushing up his slowly slipping glasses with his scythe. "Be that as it may, I will not tolerate you getting lost in thoughts until after you've finished. You're behind on your past two missions' reports, and while you often seem to decide that paperwork isn't worth your time, I have seen you actually doing your reports and in a timely manner at that. Therefore-"

"Wait a moment," the red reaper cut in, suspicious, leaning over her desk and resting her chin on her hands. He couldn't be telling the truth. William T. Spears did not just complement people. This had to be a ploy to get her back to trudging through her reports. Well, it was an impressive ploy, she could say that much. It was almost working. "You're actually implying that I can be efficient?"

The dark-haired man shot her a glare. "Seeing as that was indeed what I just said, much as it pains me to say it, it is indeed true that you can be of more help than you let on. So yes. When you choose to, you can be one of the more efficient reapers in the division. Why you spend your time dallying with others when you should be working is beyond me."

Well then. Perhaps William did have emotions, in his own particular way. Even hidden behind a complaint, that _was_ a compliment. Perhaps their friendship wasn't the ghost her mind had thought it was, Grell reflected. Latching on to her superiors' last statement, which had cheered her up quite a bit, she grinned sharply and exclaimed, "Dallying with others? Now who _ever_ could you mean, Will?" She paused for effect, letting an 'idea' strike her. "Or perhaps you mean my Bassie?"

The other reaper's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "I cannot understand how you enjoy spending time with a creature like that."

Grell got up, pushing her chair away in favour of playfully clinging to her superior's shoulder. "Oh I knew it! You're jealous, aren't you?"

A vein pulsing in his temple, the black clad man attempted to shake her off. "Why on Earth would I be jealous of that scum?" he asked belligerently. "And release me at once!"

"Not until you admit you're jea~lous!" the reaper in the red coat sang, shifting positions to fully hug the man. "I've been around long enough to know the signs, you know, and it's just so cute seeing it on you."

Heat rising to his cheeks (it must have been from annoyance, he thought), William attempted rather futilely to disentangle himself from his partner, whose grip was so strong he felt his ribs dangerously close to breaking. "Sutcliff... I cannot... breathe.." he wheezed out, supremely irritated.

Grell pouted, but loosened her grip accordingly. Then, releasing William and poking his cheek with a gloved finger, she skipped away, chanting, "You're jealous! You're blushing!", causing the man's eyebrow to twitch and making him chase after her, waving his death scythe and shouting, "Sutcliff, quit these childish antics and return to your work at once!"

And with that, it was just another day at the office.

 **:::**

 **So what do you guys think? I'm neither good nor experienced in writing romance, so this'll be pretty slow, but I hope that there were at least some hints of shipping in there. Also: trying to write Grell terrifies me. She's just such a character; it's really scary.**

 **Please tell me if you thought anybody was OOC, especially Grell, and if you think her self-doubt was too much, please let me know with constructive criticism.**

 **Thanks guys.**

 **See ya!**

 **-Unconscious Again**


	2. Chapter Two: Rampant

**Greetings Earthlings! And here's chapter two! This'll be the first chapter with a POV switch because of flashbacks, but worry not, all flashbacks (from Grell's POV, by the way) will be italicized. And remember that that means a pronoun switch. Also, since I'm neither experienced nor (at least, I think) particularly good at writing romance, the Grelliam progression will start out very friendship oriented, and (hopefully, haha) turn into shipping hints.**

 **Warning: Okay, this chapter has in it a reaper who is currently manga-only. I don't spoil much other than his name, the fact that he's there, and which division he works in, but if you really want to avoid spoilers than don't read this until you're past chapter 113 (I think) of the manga.**

 **Disclaimer: I own... Hmm, let's see. I own Nessie, and... well.. that's about it. Don't own Kuroshitsuji.**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

 **Death Scythes and Glasses**

 **.**

 **Rampant**

 **:::**

Sutcliff was at it again. William hadn't the slightest clue how his subordinate managed to make every single new recruit from the Academy band together in a riot mob and chase after him, but he had. According to Knox it had started last night after William had finished his shift and by this point there were betting pools going around about how long it would last, whether Sutcliff would be caught, and what would happen if he was. Honestly, the things reapers came up with these days. It was so tiresome to have to deal with it.

William's hair fluttered in the breeze created by Sutcliff racing past, and the dark haired man shot out a hand just in time to catch the few remaining red locks; effectively pinning his underling in place with a glare. The riot mob, who had collectively paused when they had seen who was stopping their prey, were now hesitating uncertainly a few meters away.

"Well?" William asked sharply. "Do you have business with Sutcliff, or will you be returning to your work now?"

Shaking their heads and grumbling unintelligibly, the mob dispersed, returning to their workstations or preparing themselves to go back home or out into the field.

Sutcliff, whose hair was still firmly gripped in his superior's hand, had been hiding behind said man during this time, peeking over his shoulder when the rioters left. "Thank heavens," he sighed, panting from having been running for the past ten hours straight. "I thought they were going to skin me alive!" Dusting himself off and moving to face William, the redhead grabbed his chainsaw from where he had left it leaning the night before and motioned to his captured locks. "Will darling, would you mind releasing me? I don't exactly have all day to dawdle, you know; places to be, mortals to reap, you understand."

"If you inform me as to why a riot mob of fifteen-odd reapers was chasing you," the man replied, "I assure you, I would be more than happy to comply."

His subordinate laughed sheepishly. "Well, about that..."

 _It was ten o'clock, William had finished his shift, and Grell was bored. She hadn't had the_ least _bit of intrigue in hours._

 _Ronnie was no help. She had initially tried pestering the boy for a bit, see if she could get some gossip out of him, but the blond reaper, looking harried, had shooed her away with a, "Sorry, Mr. Sutcliff, but I really hafta get this stuff done, or Director Spears'll kill me," without looking up from the report he was completing._

 _So she had hefted her death scythe and gone to Forensics to see if there was anything to poke at there. Spotting Othello, she was about to make her was over to say hello, but saw he was talking to someone. Inching closer and narrowing her eyes, she saw it was a_ female _someone. My, my, wasn't that unusual. Her lips curling into a grin, she decided to get a bit nearer and eavesdrop for a bit._

 _Slinking through the lab, unnoticed by other reapers lost in their own little worlds, Grell leant against a wall that was close enough to Othello that she was within spying distance, but far enough that he wouldn't notice her._

 _...immediately._

 _In any case, the redhead listened in to the conversation at hand._

 _"I know," the tufty haired reaper was saying, hands gesticulating wildly, "but we can't let them know that we're monitoring them. They would riot, and you know as well as I do us geeks aren't exactly in the position to fight off a group of reapers, however new they might be. This has to be kept in secret."_

 _Eyebrows raising, Grell stayed in place, intrigue piqued. Craning her neck, she realized the reaper Othello was talking to was Nessie, one of the Forensics girls. If Grell remembered correctly, she had gone through the Academy at the same time as the boy with whom she was talking, which certainly explained why Othello was managing to converse with her without stuttering. Poor thing, he could get so shy around girls. It was adorable to watch, like a little lost puppy dog._

 _"I do realize that," Nessie was replying tartly, "but if they don't start a new pool soon, our study will dry up and we'll have to wrap it up the way it is. And I, for one, refuse to do that. We have too little data, we can't just leave this!"_

 _"Fine," Othello acquiesced sourly, crossing his arms. "So how do we get them to make another betting pool?"_

 _'Betting pool?' Grell wondered, forehead furrowing. 'What kind of experiment involves a betting pool?'_

 _"We give them something to gossip about, that's how! Cause a disturbance or something, make up a rumour, I don't know. All we've got is that whenever something big happens, all the newer reapers bet on the outcomes, and then we see how long they can survive until Director Spears shuts them down," the woman stated, hands on her hips._

 _From her position, Grell began to quietly giggle. 'So that's what they're doing,' the redhead realized, grin slashing a way across her face. 'They're trying to see who can outsmart the other, the newbies or William. Probably a psychological experiment of some sort. Oh this is interesting!'_

 _Casually walking out from her hiding place, the amused reaper strolled over to the two Forensics natives, dragging her death scythe behind her noisily. Othello looked up at the noise, eyes widening a fraction as he saw who was approaching him, and Nessie, glancing at the redhead, adopted a look most commonly worn by a deer about to be hit by a runaway carriage._

 _"Grell.." Othello greeted hesitantly. "Haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to recently?"_

 _"You know," the redhead started, carefully placing her chainsaw on the ground, "I actually just heard the most interesting conversation."_

 _The two Forensics reapers shared a glance, and Grell continued, worming her way in between them and slinging her arms around their shoulders. "Something about a betting pool, was it?"_

 _They stiffened, but the red reaper just laughed. "Don't worry; I'm not here to bust you. I just wanted to stifle my boredom. Sooo..." she drawled, drawing out the vowel, "I want in on the fun. What do you say?"_

 _Othello wrinkled his forehead and looked to Nessie, who shrugged. "I suppose it couldn't hurt," she answered for the both of them._

 _Releasing their shoulders, Grell spun around to face her newfound partners in crime and clapped her hands in excitement. "Well then. Shall we begin?"_

"So," the reaper concluded, "we decided amongst ourselves I was the best one to make a scene, I overdid it, and you know the rest."

William looked at his subordinate. "That's all well enough," he decided, pushing his spectacles up with a finger, "but what exactly did 'making a scene' entail, Sutcliff?"

"Er," Grell started, hand scratching the back of his neck, "well..."

 _"Alright," Othello said. "Are we ready?"_

 _Nessie crossed her arms from her perch beside him, high up in the rafters of the Dispatch atrium. "I still cannot believe that this is our plan," she complained irritably. "Couldn't we have thought of a better idea?"_

 _Her companion glanced at her, swinging his legs casually. "You know Grell," he replied. "Once he gets an idea in his head, there's no shaking it. At least this is a lot more harmless than some of the other things he could have come up with."_

 _"Fine, fine," the woman acquiesced, waving a hand airily and checking she had her notepad and pen. "Let's get on with it. Ugh, the things I do for data..."_

 _Othello made eye contact with the lounging reaper on solid ground, and gave her a thumbs up. "Full steam ahead," he mouthed, and she winked in reply._

 _Blinking and putting her hands over her mouth, Nessie paled as a thought struck her. "Othello. We cannot go through with this."_

 _"I told you already-"_

 _"_ No! _We made this plan with the new reapers in mind, but we never thought about Director Spears' reaction to it!" was the panicked interruption._

 _The tufty haired reaper's eyes widened. "He's going to skin us alive," he mumbled. Then, looking down to the ground floor, he tried valiantly to make eye contact with their red haired companion, hissing, "Grell! We have to stop! Can you hear me? Stop the plan!"_

 _But she didn't notice them, and by that point it was already too late._

 _Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Grell Sutcliff had already rigged the paint bomb - which would send a bright scarlet spraying every which way exactly where the newest death gods were finishing up their first ever reports - to explode, and was slinking away, unnoticed to all but the few bright recruits who had already finished._

 _"Ten," the redhead sang under her breath, "nine..."_

 _From their place in the rafters, Othello and Nessie were alternating calculating the speed at which they could dismantle the bomb, the time which they had before it went off, and how quickly they could run away and disassociate themselves from what was sure to become a fiasco._

 _"Eight, seven, six!"_

 _By this point the two Forensics natives were outright panicking; the male trying frantically to catch Grell's attention, but to no avail._

 _"Five! Four! Oh, how I_ do _love causing a disturbance sometimes."_

 _"Should we run?" Othello whispered to his partner._

 _She grit her teeth and shook her head. "We've come this far. It's going to go off either way, we had might as well get some data out of it."_

 _"Three!"_

 _"Alright," the tufty haired reaper agreed. "Ready?"_

 _"Two!"_

 _"Quite," was the reply, and the two reapers poised their pens upon their respective notepads._

 _"One and zero! Time's up!" the red reaper chirped, and she grinned as a burst of bright paint exploded from behind her and covered all nearby surfaces; fluttering her hair but leaving Grell herself, by that point a good few metres from the blast zone, untouched._

 _Cries of shock and outrage came from the new reapers, and if listening closely it was almost possible to hear the two instigators of the mess scribbling away furiously._

 _"Oi!" one of the young men bellowed, "Who did this?"_

 _"Well I don't know," a female snapped back, "I'm a bit concerned about my report being completely encased in- what is this, even? Red paint?"_

 _"I believe so," called out an energetic looking young woman, and, pointing to the red reaper, she added, "and I also believe that he's the one who did this to us!"_

 _"I saw it too!" added another angry voice, this time male, "It was him!"_

 _As more and more voices added to the fray, fingers unanimously pointing at her, Grell's grin turned into a frown. "Oh dear," she muttered, fearing things were about to take a turn for the worse very soon._

 _And then one voice broke out above the cacophony, and her fears were validated. "Don't just stand there; get him!"_

 _And the redhead gulped as the mob charged forwards._

"You know," Sutcliff said, biting his lower lip with those absurdly sharp teeth of his, "I just now realized that I probably shouldn't be telling you this, should I, Will?"

Glancing at his superior's twitching eyebrow, he laughed sheepishly. "As I said, I might have overdone things a bit..."

"Sutcliff," William began in a low voice, his clenched fist tightening; the reaper in question paling dramatically, "remind me. You did _what_ exactly?"

"I may have perhaps set a paint bomb to go off in the Dispatch atrium," the redhead mumbled, fidgeting with his chainsaw.

" _And?_ " his superior prompted, growling.

"And there's a chance it may have successfully gone off and covered all the new recruits' reports in red paint," was the weak reply, the redhead twiddling his thumbs and looking down.

Sensing his superior's rapidly growing fury, Grell decided to cut his losses and leave before Will could explode. Yanking his hair out of the man's hand, which was shaking out of anger, the red reaper blew him a kiss, speedily said, "Well, Will, it's been lovely seeing you, but now I think I really ought to get going so this will be farewell. Goodbye!", and bolted, sending a nearby stack of papers flying, fear visible in his eyes.

A split second later, he felt a tap on his shoulder and froze when he heard the words, "Not so fast, Sutcliff," come from behind him. Oh drat. He knew his superior was fast, but this was ridiculous.

"You shall be coming with me," William said, eyebrow twitching, dragging the redhead by his hair into his office, the walk punctuated by cries of, "No. Please don't kill me! Show mercy, Will! _Ow!_ "

And to this day, the reapers' best psychologists haven't figured out how, half an hour later, a soot covered, puffy haired, glasses-hanging-by-a-thread Grell exited the room, closely followed by a slightly less irritated William, suit still impeccable. But even since then, the redhead had developed an allergy to paint, his superior had strictly forbidden explosives in the building upon threat of death, and Ronald, who had correctly bet that "Director Spears would freeze the newbies in their tracks 'nd then almost kill Mr. Sutcliff", had earned himself a neat sum of 1£ and the nickname of 'Psychic'.

"All in all," Othello mentioned to Nessie later that day, comparing their observations back in the Forensics division. "Not a bad experiment."

 **:::**

 **And there's Rampant! This one was a lot of fun to write. So is the next one so far (Disgust), but that one's gonna be a lot more serious than this and have a much more solemn tone. Be warned.**

 **Thanks to everybody who's followed this so far (AllisonAbadeer - love your name, by the way, Merya83, and my wonderful friend All4AnimeTDR, who is pretty amazing, let me tell you guys that), as well as my not-on-this-site friends Matsudiana (you know who you are) and Jules, who helped me get through writers block many a time, and all the cool cats at the General Fanfiction Challenges forum.**

 **What did you think? Comment down below!**

 **See ya!**

 **-Ua**


	3. Chapter Three: Disgust

**Greetings Earthlings! Sorry it took me so long to update, these things are coming out as they're being written and I also try and have one of my friends read over them for OOCness and all that jazz before I get them out to you. This one's a lot more serious than the first two, but I did my best to keep everyone in character. I'm pretty scared that the mood change at the end is too abrupt, but I tried, so thanks for reading.**

 **Warning: Uh, nothing spoilery in this chapter. As long as you know Grell and Will you're golden.**

 **Disclaimer: Nooooooooooppppeeeeeee.**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

 **Death Scythes And Glasses**

 **.**

 **Disgust**

 **:::**

Grell was not impressed. In fact, the reaper realized, surveying the scene before her with the utmost distaste, she was revolted.

The body count was only three, but those corpses had been strewn across enough of the cold marble floor that there could have been ten and the redhead wouldn't have known the difference. Blood, bones, flesh. Normally a sight like this wouldn't have bothered her in the slightest. Under different circumstances, she would have even reveled the object violence of it all. But not like this. Not today. Not with children.

Hearing echoing footsteps coming from the hall behind her, she glanced from the gruesome sight in time to see her superior walk up beside her, pruning pole in one hand, adjusting his spectacles with the other. "Will," she acknowledged sullenly.

"Sutcliff," and a nod was what she got as curt reply. "Have you finished the judging of the souls?"

Sighing and running a hand through her hair ( _because of course that was what her emotionless William cared about, the souls, the stupid_ souls _, not the fact that three children no older than seven had been rearranged to look more like a Picasso painting than anything that could happen in nature_ ), Grell pointed silently with her chainsaw to the three completed reports lying on the ground.

Her superior touched a hand to his glasses once more and collected them; not using his death scythe to grab them as he might have, but walking over to where they were and crouching down, straightening once he had picked the papers up. He looked over to the reaper where she was standing, unresponsive, and he grimaced ( _just a twitch of the mouth, but it was enough_ ) in understanding. "What mortals are capable of," he muttered, returning to his place by her side, footsteps breaking the silence between them. "Utterly disgusting."

The redhead didn't let her eyes flicker to the papers. She knew all too well what they said. _Marie Summers, aged six. Dies from blood loss and flesh wounds at three seventeen in the afternoon on Monday, August 11th, 1889. Alexander and Cecily Summers, aged seven. Dead from the same causes at three eighteen in the afternoon on Monday, August 11th, 1889. Souls have been judged to be of no worthy benefit to humanity, and will therefore be put to rest. Reaping complete._

"Well?" Grell asked softly, looking up at her superior in hope of some form of answer other than the standard one. William raised an eyebrow, motioning with the hand holding the reports for her to go on. "What are we to do with the children?"

Gaze directed away from her, he replied, "You know the response to that question, Sutcliff." When his subordinate remained silent, he sighed; unconsciously tapping out a faint rhythm on his pruning pole.

Grell knew what he would eventually reply. ' _Reapers are not to interfere with anyone's deaths. The corpses will remain where they are, and be left for whomever may find them. We shall not burn them, we shall not move them, and we shall most certainly not give them a burial-_ '

"Do what you will."

The red reaper blinked. "Eh?"

"I said," William repeated, pointedly averting his gaze from his subordinate's, "do what you will. I did not see anything, nor did I hear anything. The children's bodies were lost upon submission of your reports. If necessary, I will deal with any further inquiries."

"But Will-"

"That is all."

Grell nodded and smiled bitterly in appreciation, releasing her grip on her chainsaw. She slowly padded over to where the bodies began, dropping to her hands and knees once she reached that first splash of blood. Head bowed, a crimson curtain of hair blocking her face, she closed her eyes. "Death. That's what being a reaper is, isn't it? Death? We see it, we deal it, we breathe it. It's as much a part of us as our heart or our brain. So then.. why is it so hard to see children die? It's just another form of death, isn't it? But it's different, so different; different than seeing seniors or middle aged workers or even healthy young adults pass on. Them, I can watch die or- or even kill myself and not feel the slightest wrong. I can even enjoy it. So why? Why is it so wrong... _Why is it so difficult to reap a child?!_ "

She sank, forehead touching the ground, vibrant locks spilling over each other and mingling with the warm liquid splattered over the ground of the same colour, and William frowned. This was not Grell Sutcliff. Setting the reports down and cautiously walking over to the red reaper, he looked down to her, now-free hand lifting hesitantly, uncertain, before he knelt down beside her and slowly touched a hand to her shoulder. "Come now Sutcliff," the senior reaper said, words brusque as always but tone less so than usual, "we have work to return to. Do try and get a hold of yourself. Reapers are closer to humans than any other of our supernatural brethren. We still eat, we still sleep, we still feel empathy. For us to reap a child would be just as hard as for a human to kill one."

The subdued subordinate looked up at him, eyes wide. "But don't you get it, Will? It _was_ a human who did this to them. A human who cornered them. A human who cut these children open with a cleaver. And I heard a bit of the conversation that happened before the deaths - do you know what it was for?" the reaper asked, picking herself up - William rising not far behind - and laughing despondently, throwing her head back and sending crimson hair flying, voice rising with each word she spoke. "It was for _money_. The children were part of a band of pickpockets who happened upon some bigger gang's territory, and they got killed for it. So what? The kiddies get the knife but the sick bastard who did this to them gets away scot-free?" Stamping her foot down with enough force to crack the floor, dust flying as a result, she exclaimed, "Who _wrote_ this garbage?!"

Her superior drew away, brushing himself off, and pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket. "And that," he informed her, "is precisely why I am here."

He held it out to her. "Once I assigned you to the Summers children case, I received another soul scheduled for death. Understaffed as we are, I saw you the best choice to enforce this."

Grell snorted, but didn't reach for the proffered piece of paper. "What, you think more work will distract me from practically having killed three children?"

William's eyes narrowed, but he merely replied, "Not quite; however, I believe that you'll find this case quite interesting. Read it."

Sighing, the redhead accepted the envelope, took off a glove, and slit it open with a nail, eyes scanning the file inside and widening in shock once they had registered the words on the page. "Joseph Barley, aged thirty-six. After having killed three children, he runs into the way of a carriage and dies of blood loss at three twenty-seven in the afternoon on Monday, August 11th, 1889. Will, you.. You're letting me kill him?"

"I am informing you that you are to reap this man's soul. That is all," was the response given. Turning away and beginning to walk out, the reaper added, "It is currently three twenty-two. I suggest you get to the allotted place quickly."

"Wait!"

William looked back. "Yes?"

Crumpling the case file, brushing herself off, putting her glove back on, and touching a comforting hand to her spectacles, Grell then retrieved her death scythe and hugged her superior, not caring how he froze. "Thank you Will," she whispered. "I just... I don't like seeing people who are innocent die and people who aren't get away with it." Releasing the man, she shook her head, hair flying every which way, cleared her mind by taking a deep breath, gave her superior a toothy grin, and revved up her chainsaw. "Well, I should be off. Time is running out, and I have some murderers to kill." She winked, and added, "Be a dear and don't mention this to anyone, will you? I would hate for my reputation to be ruined. Ta ta, Will darling~!"

The redhead pranced off to hunt down her prey, eyes gleaming, and William, suddenly remembering how to move, sighed and adjusted his glasses. _There_ was the Grell Sutcliff he knew.

As the red reaper ran her death scythe through the mortal whose soul she was indeed to reap, blood flying every which way as his cinematic record began to play, she smiled, and under her breath, mused, "I simply must find a way to get an anonymous burial for those children. Hmm... However shall I manage that? And on another note, Will has my thanks for helping me get back to normal. I should let him know that when I get back." She paused, completing the reaping and leaping onto a nearby rooftop. "Yes, I very much appreciate it."

And with that, she took off.

 **:::**

 **So what did you think? Did Grell get 'back to normal' too fast? Again, I'm not sure how I did, so comment with what you think down below.**

 **To Tirnel, my first reviewer: First of all, thanks for reviewing! I'm super glad that you like this so far, and thanks for supporting it. (I've read some of your stories before, they're really good O.o). It's nice to meet a fellow writer/shipper (as you put it :D) of Grelliam.**

 **Thanks to everyone who's followed, favourited, and reviewed, as well as my friends who put up with my constant asking them to read the new chapters.**

 **See ya!**

 **-Ua**


	4. Chapter Four: Hurt

**Greetings Earthlings! And thus begins our first two-parter! Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual to get this out; I was going to write the whole idea for this prompt but I realized it was getting really long, so I decided, "Ah, screw it" and I'm making the second half (which I only just started writing) into Chapter Five. This one starts out light, then goes kinda serious, but not as solemn as last time's (I hope o.O). Also, first time writing Sebby and Ciel, so this ought to be fun.**

 **Warning: Uhh, a reaper gets a brief appearance who's manga-only, but as with Chapter Two, only his name is spoiled.**

 **Disclaimer: Ha. Ha. Ha. No.**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

 **Death Scythes And Glasses**

 **.**

 **Hurt**

 **:::**

"It huuuuurrrtttttssssss!"

Not bothering to glance up at his subordinate, who had been present and whining for the part five minutes, William signed another report. "I cannot comprehend how you can tolerate getting your arm cut off with a grin but will complain for hours about having scraped your knee."

Sutcliff leant forwards from his lounging position in the armchair in the corner of the dark haired man's office, lacing his fingers together and resting his head upon his hands, looking at his superior in a contemplative manner. "I am a notorious drama queen, Will; you know that almost better than I. But I think that perhaps, at the present, I'm just bored. And it does hurt, you know. Just because I can tolerate pain doesn't make it enjoyable."

William sighed, putting the file on top of a neatly stacked pile of its brethren, and glared at the redhead. "So you don't classify any of your past fights with the Phantomhive child's demon, the entirety of which, from what I have observed, were spent with you grinning like a madman, enjoyable?"

The other reaper's eyes gleamed in amusement. "My, my. Playing dirty, are we now, Will? Well, touché. You got me; that was indeed quite fun. But you know what I mean."

"Honestly..." was the muttered reply as the man at the desk looked to his work load once more. Grell absentmindedly rolled up his pant leg and began to inspect his injured knee; poking and prodding the scabbed flesh and pouting when the expected twinge of pain came. "Come on, Will," the redhead drawled. "Hurry it up already. It's past eleven, and you simply cannot leave an injured lady to walk home by herself."

"Yes," William replied, standing and picking up the pile of completed reports. "In fact, I indeed believe I can." Without looking back, he walked to the door, adding, "I have three more stacks of approximately the same size to finish by tomorrow. Go bother someone in Forensics."

Grell winced, but didn't let the action show itself, not that his superior's retreating back would have noticed. ' _A bother? Fine. I'll show him a bother._ '

William, for his part, was picking up his death scythe, which he had carefully leant against the wall just outside his office some minutes previous. Walking to the Administration Bureau at a brisk pace, he didn't notice his most memorable subordinate quietly slipping out of the room he had occupied previously and into the blackness of the other direction.

 **:::**

William looked from his office to the trail of red liquid on the tiled floor leading away from it and back in bewilderment. Deftly kneeling down, the reaper swiped a droplet of the substance onto his finger, narrowing his eyes when he saw it was blood. Reaper blood. What on Earth had happened?

Opening the door to his office, the bespectacled man scanned the room for anything out of place, noting the general disarray and window hanging agar, and focused in when he saw a note upon his desk. Moving closer, he noted that it read, "Follow the bloody brick road, Will" in shaky but suspiciously familiar handwriting. ' _What has Sutcliff gotten himself into this time?_ '

Shaking his head and walking briskly out of the office, his pruning pole swaying to the rhythm of his steps, the reaper's eyes widened and he bright himself to a stop before he could crash into a harried Ronald Knox, sans death scythe and looking around frantically. Registering the other man, the blond breathed out a sigh of relief. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" he exclaimed, panting. "London... You hafta get to London as soon as you can."

Noting his subordinate's panicked expression, William nodded. "Lead me to where I am needed."

Knox took off at a run, and the other reaper hastened his pace in an attempt to follow. Some small part of his unconscious found the fact that they were following the trail of blood interesting, but the thought was quickly dismissed as the two reapers appeared in mortal London.

Guiding his superior through a labyrinth of twists and turns down the darkened alleys of the capital at night, Ronald's eyes glowed, scanning the ground every few seconds to make sure he was still following the splattered red liquid that lead them through the city, and hung a sharp right when he recognized that the two were in the area they needed to be. Leaping onto a nearby rooftop and motioning for William to do the same, he peered down into the abandoned plaza.

Well, it had been abandoned.

At the moment, the plaza was home to one blood-spattered corpse, one butler, and one very bewildered Earl of Phantomhive. ' _It figures_ ,' the elder reaper thought.

The duo down below were discussing the very body the reapers were staring at. "It isn't mortal blood, is it?" the Earl was asking.

"Very good, young master," the demon replied, smiling pleasantly as if not looking down at a mess of flesh, blood, and entrails. "While part of it indeed belongs to the corpse, the other half is-"

"Reaper."

Looking to their right, the child and his butler saw William T. Spears approach them, closely trailed by Ronald Knox. "Spears," the Earl greeted, and was given a curt nod in reply. The butler raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "And what business might the reapers have involving this? The corpse isn't human; there's no soul for you to collect."

"Well, Knox?" the London Director asked. "I would like to know that answer myself."

The blond didn't look at his superior, instead crouching down and examining the corpse. "It's a demon, innit?" Looking to Sebastian, he impatiently demanded, "Well?"

With an affirmative answer, Ronald stood up, looking to the group in what could almost be fear. "This is Mr. Sutcliff's blood," he uttered, reaching a barely trembling hand to push up his glasses. "Look at the markings on the corpse; I'd know that chainsaw anywhere."

The butler shared a look with his master and frowned, before crouching down in order to examine the body. "This was a minor fox demon," he concluded, glancing up at the small group gathered. "While notorious tricksters, they aren't known for being strong or having much skill in battle. If, as you say, this blood is indeed Grell Sutcliff's, I would have a hard time believing that this demon in particular would have been able to inflict the necessary kind of injury upon him to cause that level of blood loss."

"Which means that Sutcliff must have already been injured when he came into contact with it," muttered William. "Very well." Looking to his subordinate, he inquired, "Was that all you wanted to show me?"

Knox nodded. "I heard a report about a bunch of demons around London dying in the past couple of minutes and managed to find the corpse of this one, but I didn't get a chance to look at it 'til now. And combined with the fact that Mr. Sutcliff had gone missing..."

The Earl began to looked troubled at those words, and the demon started cleaning up the body with a faint frown. The elder reaper whipped his head around from the carnage to lock eyes with the blond. " _What?!_ "

"Nobody's seen Mr. Sutcliff in the past half hour," he replied grimly. "Not one. Mr. Sutcliff's the kinda guy who you always know where he is, 'cause he's so loud you can hear him from a mile away, right? The only time we'd lost contact with him was when the whole Jack the Ripper thing was happening. And I heard that he was gone and I saw the blood and I bolted to find you."

William nodded, mind rushing a mile a minute. "The trail of blood continues. I shall follow it. You may return to Headquarters, Knox."

The reaper shook his head stubbornly. "I ain't leaving Mr. Sutcliff like that," he said. "No way."

The elder man pushed up his glasses with a distracted sigh. "Very well." He looked to the Earl and his butler, and stated, "We appreciate the information," getting a nod in acknowledgement.

Both beings promptly took off.

 **:::**

"Do you recognize this part of town?" Ronald asked his superior as they dashed above the streets of London via rooftop, following their unusual trail.

"While I don't know it incredibly well, I am vaguely familiar with the area," William replied, clutching on to his pruning pole. "It is the economic district."

"That makes sense," the blond responded, recklessly leaping from one building to the next. "That's why we've been passing all these banks. But why would Mr. Sutcliff come down here?"

"I believe the more important question would be-" the elder reaper began, but stopped dead before he could finish. Looking around, he said, "The trail has disappeared."

Ronald gave the area a cursory glance as well, before wondering aloud, "So where could he have- Wait a minute. Disappeared. You don't think-"

"That Sutcliff returned to our realm? It's likely."

William twirled his death scythe in a figure eight before hitting it onto the ground to emphasize his point. "Let's make haste."

The blond nodded, and the two reapers flashed back to their dimension.

 **:::**

' _More blood. Blast you Sutcliff._ '

William shook his head, vigorously clearing it before his thoughts could proceed any further. He took off at a run, Ronald trailing not far behind, and belatedly realized that the trail was leading him to Forensics. As the man slammed open the double doors, a flustered Othello caught his eye.

"Director Spears. Ron. This really isn't a good time," he greeted hurriedly, pacing over to them, taking in the elder's uncharacteristic drumming of his fingers on his pruning pole and the younger's pale expression. "Why not?" the senior reaper asked. Othello merely motioned to the room. "Take a look around."

"Whoa," the blond breathed out as he and his superior surveyed the area. "How did we miss that?"

It was chaos. Tables destroyed, experiments overturned, part of the wall crumbled in a heap on the floor. Reapers scrambling around, writing notes frantically, helping pick their injured colleagues off the ground, trying desperately to save data. Blood everywhere.

"And it could have been a lot worse," the tufty haired reaper muttered, looking at the sight as well "If Grell hadn't been here-"

"Grell?" William asked sharply. "What does he have to do with this?"

Othello furrowed his eyebrows, touching a hand to his spectacles. "You didn't know? He came in at a full run, and he'd been hurt pretty badly as far as I could tell. Next thing anyone registers is somehow a demon gets in. Well, you know us. Forensics couldn't fight off a demon to save our lives (and for the first minute or so, we tried), and Grell knew that too so he ended up battling it all by himself. Caused a fair lot of damage - well, you've seen the state of this place - but he managed to kill it. Once he had done that, he threw it outside and took off again," he explained.

William had frozen. Eyes wide, gone paler than usual, fists clenched. Ronald was getting concerned. "Hey, Director Spears?" he asked, waving a hand in front of the other reaper's face, Othello looking on over his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Already injured... Had just fought another but insisted on killing this one as well... What had gotten into him? He's not an idiot, damn it!" the elder man was muttering. Blinking and shaking his head once more, he snapped out of the trance he had been in. "Let's- let's continue. We have no idea how badly injured Sutcliff is at this point."

Cautiously putting a hand on his superior's shoulder, Ronald tried to adopt a comforting tone of voice as he said, "Don't worry about Mr. Sutcliff. He's taken a beating from a lot worse than a couple of demons. He's a crazy resilient guy, don't ya know? Emphasis on crazy."

William managed a choppy nod and the corners of his mouth twitched up. "I suppose that's true."

"Listen," Othello cut in, "I'm really sorry, but I need to help clean up and you guys might want to follow the trail of blood that's leading out of here, because it's been a good ten minutes since Grell left and I don't know where he's gotten to."

"Gotcha. Thanks Othello!" the blond called out over his shoulder as he and his senior left the room.

 **:::**

Rushing down a hallway, pushing past others. Pausing where the trail had gotten smudged, but never stopping.

Moving.

Moving.

' _Move._ '

But then they paused.

The trail had a few splattered patches here and there, but had mainly collected itself in a puddle in front of the glasses division. "Well," Ronald said, biting his lip, "I guess we go in?"

"Hn," William grunted in agreement, before trying the doorknob. 'It's o _pen,_ ' he realized, and proceeded to walk into the small entrance hallway between where they made reaper's spectacles. He turned the corner, made his way into the open creation space, and stopped dead.

"Well Will," Grell Sutcliff said weakly, laying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, "seems you've found the wizard of Oz. Or perhaps the little man behind the curtain? Doesn't matter, does it? Either way-" here he cut off with a coughing fit that didn't subside for at least twenty seconds, blood choking its way out all the while for good measure, "..either way, I think that I'm in a spot of trouble." The red reaper tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but stopped midway as another coughing fit overcame him, and flopped back to the ground. "Be a dear and help a lady out? I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to last if I'm just being a bother on my own."

' _No. This isn't happening._ '

William dropped his death scythe and ran to the redhead's side, kneeling down, ignoring how the action stained his suit with (' _No, don't think of that, we need help, don't just sit there watching Sutcliff fade, take_ action _damn it!_ '). "Knox!" he barked, and the other reaper was next to him in an instant. "Bring doctors." "Got it," the blond nodded, already racing out of the room.

Racking his brain for anything that might be of assistance to his subordinate until medical help could arrive, the dark haired man inspected his companion for any sign of where the blood was coming from. "You won't find the real source of the bleeding like that," Grell said, interrupting his search. "My lungs got punctured, but the worse of it is up here." Feebly grabbing William's hand, the other reaper used it to push back a curtain of his bright hair, revealing a deep wound. "It all blends in, you see? Even I didn't understand how bad it was until I saw that I was leaving behind a trail of my own blood."

Shedding his jacket, William pressed it to the injury, trying to staunch the flow. "Has anyone told you you're not very-" another cough, "-good at this, Will?"

"I am doing what I believe will work. Quit wasting your energy by talking." The redhead grimaced as the rapid tatter of footsteps approached them, and the dark haired man jerked his attention up. "He's over here," he called out, and a group of reapers approached them, lead by Ronald. "My," the redhead mumbled, "don't I have a group of admirers today. Hello, Ronnie."

The blond shook his head. "There ain't a nice way to say this, Mr. Sutcliff, but shut up. You're fading pretty quickly and we can't have you wasting any more energy, now can we?"

Shooting him a good natured glare that belied his current state of injury, Grell sang, "I didn't listen to William and I won't be listening to you, young man. No, you'll have to make me stop if you really want me to!"

William's eyebrow twitched, and with a few deft flicks of his wrist he turned his makeshift bandage into an unconventional but nonetheless highly effective gag. "And with that," the reaper stated irritably, jerking his head towards the doctors, "we turn him over to you."

The group swarmed their newfound patient and disappeared, and the Director of the London Division slid, suddenly exhausted, into a seated position.

"Think he'll be alright?" Ronald asked, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen. His superior blinked. "Of course he will. We are talking about Grell Sutcliff; the man could jump into a volcano and emerge grinning from ear to ear." Eyes widening slightly as his brain registered his words, the reaper nodded curtly. "Yes. He will be fine."

The blond grinned ruefully. "There we go. Sometimes you've gotta say it yourself to believe it. Now come on," he added, holding out a hand to his senior. "If you stay like that your suit's gonna get ruined." Accepting the help and pulling himself up back to a standing position, William reclaimed his pruning pole.

Giving the room they were in a cursory glance, the dark haired reaper stated, "Well? I expect that this incident will have caused some bureaucratic trouble, and I still have two stacks of reports to validate. Return to your work."

And return to their work they did.

 **:::**

 **So how did I do? I think I'm getting the hang of these; would you guys agree? Let me know in the comments.**

 **Thanks to everybody who's favourited, followed, and reviewed, and a shoutout to WhatExistsInFalling (Thanks for liking my stuff!) and my friend Giules (Thanks for letting me force you to proofread each new chapter).**

 **I think that's all for now. Hope you guys are having a good day.**

 **See ya!**

 **-Ua**


	5. Chapter Five: Knife

**Greetings Earthlings! AHH I'M SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE OH GOD. (But can you blame me? This thing is over 6k words long!) Also possibly very scared that everyone is OOC here (I reread it like three times already), but tell me what you guys think after you've read it. So, even though today's prompt is Knife, this is a Part 2 of Hurt's plot, this time from Grell's POV. There are OCs here, be warned, but I think they're alright characters (one of whom is** ** _definitely_** **not partially based on BBC Sherlock's Mrs Hudson... I wouldn't do** ** _that_** **...).**

 **Disclaimer: Own Kuroshitsuji? Yeah... I wish...**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

 **Death Scythes and Glasses**

 **.**

 **Knife**

 **:::**

It was like a knife was digging into her side. Blearily blinking open her eyes, squinting against the harsh light above, she realized that there was, in fact, a knife doing just that. ' _What the devil is going on?_ '

A face swam into her field of vision, and her memories came flashing back to her. ' _Bother. Sadness. Fighting. Blood. Run away. Guilt. Blood. Demons. Death. Trail. The note. Blood. Weakening. London. Forensics. Blood. Dragging myself down the hall. Glasses. Blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Blood. Fading. Will. Blood. Will?_ '

She blinked once more, and the world came into sharp focus. She tried to speak, but only coughs would come out. "Where... What happened?" she rasped, voice rusty from lack of use. The doctor she had noticed previously straightened up out of view (leaving the knife sticking out of her, she registered faintly), calling out, "Patient has regained consciousness," amidst similar phrases. Another reaper peered down at her, a senior nurse she dimly recognized as Ellie Wordsworth, and the redhead looked up in her general direction. "What happened to me?"

Ellie smiled patiently. "You blacked out in the middle of Glasses Division," she explained gently, tucking a loose strand of silver hair back into its tight ponytail. "Agent Knox and Director Spears found you bleeding out on the floor; by the time we rushed you to Emergency we weren't sure you were going to make it, considering the amount of blood you lost. You're very lucky to have survived, you know that? Even reapers aren't infallible."

Grell furrowed her eyebrows. "I was lucky, wasn't I?" she said weakly, breaking out into a mild coughing fit before she could continue. "I've always been lucky. I suppose this was bound to happen one day." Catching the nurse's eye, the redhead asked, "What about Ronnie and Will? Do they know I'm alright?"

The other reaper bobbed her head absentmindedly as she replied, "In a manner of speaking. Director Spears made it quite clear that we were to be giving him updates on your condition, and that he would notify Agent Knox from there." Giving her patient a wry smile and a pat on the arm, the elderly woman added, "Knowing those two, they'll be barging through the doors any second now. Not that I'll allow them to see you, mind, you're still in much too fragile a condition, but the thought will count." Looking up from the hospital bed to the room's entrance, she laughed. "Ah, there they are now! What dears. Do excuse me one moment."

Standing up and smoothing her uniform, Ellie bustled over to the doorway in which the two men were loitering. With some difficulty, Grell sat up enough that she could hear their conversation. "Hello Director. Agent," the nurse was greeting, looking to each reaper as she said hello, getting a nod from the former and a wink and smile from the latter in return. "I'm assuming you two boys are here for Grell Sutcliff, correct?"

"Indeed," William was replying, scanning the room for that familiar splash of red. "Understaffed as we currently are, we must have as many active reapers as possible available for duty. Seeing as I heard he had regained consciousness, might I inquire as to the condition of Agent Sutcliff?"

"For his condition, Grell is doing very well at the moment," the silver haired woman affirmed, "though had you found him any later than you had I daresay I wouldn't have been able to give the same news. He lost a lot of blood, and even with a reaper's healing capabilities he will be bedridden for the next few days, quite possibly the next week. Ah-" she interrupted, blocking the dark haired man's path as he and his blond companion attempted to move closer to the red reaper, "I will have no one interfering with Grell's recovery. He needs some good peace and quiet, lots of fluids, and time so that his body can make up for the lost calcium (among other minerals, but I shan't bore you with those) from the lost blood. So no visitors for the next three days."

Looking pointedly at the males, Ellie narrowed her eyes in the elder of the two's direction, who was beginning to tap out a steady, impatient rhythm against the handle of his death scythe. "That means you, young man. I understand you two both want to make sure your friend is alright, but that is what us medical staff are for. I shan't have you using cases as an excuse to sneak a visit."

With a thin smile that seemed more predatory than a kindly old woman should be able to achieve, she finished, "I understand that both of you are caught up in your work, but surely you can manage without him for a few days longer?" While the nurse's tone was gentle, the message behind the words was as clear as crystal. ' _Interfere with my patient's recovery and I shall have both of your heads._ '

Grell saw Ronald shudder slightly and giggled to herself, then started laughing even harder when she noticed William's nervous habit of drumming his fingers on his pruning pole had returned with a vengeance. Laughter dying down, the redhead furrowed her eyebrows as she registered a pain in her side. Then she remembered why. "Nurse Ellie?" the reaper called out, voice stronger than before but still so weak she had to strain to be heard. "Not to alarm you, but I'm fairly certain there's still a knife sticking out of me. Be a dear and help a lady out, would you?"

The silver haired woman blinked. "Oh dear," she muttered, before promptly rushing back to her patient, shooing the male reapers away with some vague hand motions. "You boys go now, I haven't the time to deal with your loitering here and distracting us. Leave! Away! Shoo!"

Ronald gulped, and hurriedly lead himself and his superior away with one last smile, calling out, "Hope you get better soon, Mr. Sutcliff!" over his shoulder as the two left.

Drawing back the sheets covering the redhead, she peered at the bloody knife sticking out of the hospital gown, before moving a scarlet curtain of hair aside to the area where the bleeding had been. "Peace and quiet is much nicer, don't you agree dear?" the nurse asked. "Now, let me take a look at that wound of yours. We had to do an operation on you while you were out, you know, that's why your side has been cut open, though you were right to think that most of the blood was being lost from your head." As she spoke Ellie fretted over the bandages encircling Grell's skull, deftly slipping two fingers in between them to assure herself they weren't too tight, before moving back to the knife. "Oh bother," she mumbled, straightening up. "Is it hurting at all, dear?"

The injured reaper puffed out her cheeks and thought about the question. "Not much," she finally replied, giving her trademark sharp grin and suddenly feeling a bit more herself. "A tad irritating, but I can certainly put up with that." The elderly woman gave a faint smile and nodded, asking, "Then would it be too much to ask to leave it in, just for a minute or so before the doctors arrive? I would remove it myself but the surgery isn't quite finished yet and the knife is blocking any bleeding that could happen if I took it out."

Grell shrugged, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain that ran through her head from the action. "I suppose so," she agreed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind an ear. "But I've been wondering, why am I being operated on in the first place?"

Ellie blinked. "You didn't know?" she asked, ringing the bell by the side of the hospital bed to summon a doctor with a practiced twitch of her wrist. "You've had a demon claw inside you for the past twenty four hours; that's what punctured your lungs and why you haven't been healing as quickly as you normally would. It had a slight toxin, nothing serious, but enough to slow down your immune system that it couldn't bother with the bleeding."

"Hmm. Yes, that would explain it," the redhead stated. Looking up to the nurse, she inquired, "When do you think I'll be out of here? Or at least, when could I start getting visitors? Staying sane in solitude is _not_ my forte, and I want to be back on my feet as soon as I can."

"A valid question," the elder reaper said to herself, pressing her lips together and shaking her head, running her hands along the rails that were present on the side of the bed. "If I had it my way, you would have at least a good week before even thinking of returning to the field, but I know how you youngsters are always in a rush. Like I told your friends, you can start receiving visitors in perhaps five days, but please wait another week at least before getting out of bed."

Grell nodded attentively, before listening over the woman's last statement in her head and catching her gaze. "They're- er, they're not friends, exactly, you know. Ronnie, possibly, but he's mostly my partner out on the field, and Will... Well, I just irritate Will."

Ellie put her hands up to her mouth and started to shake. It took the red reaper a moment to realize the nurse was giggling. "Oh don't be a fool, dearie," the elderly woman said, eyes crinkled into a smile, waving an airy hand. "Of course they're your friends. Why would they come see you otherwise? And don't you say work; William could have full well sent a message to us or even just waited to be informed as to your status, and he knows that. But despite being 'oh so understaffed', he took the time to personally visit you."

Looking at the unconvinced pout on her patient's face, Ellie added, "And I remember when those two first found you bleeding out on the floor. Ronald came dashing in top speed, barely taking the time to tell us what was so urgent before he dragged a group of us off to where you were, and so we ran and we came into the room and saw William, and let me tell you, dearie, I've known that boy for a long time and I have never seen him look quite so panicked. If you had seen his eyes, really seen them, you would have understood what I mean. You're very much his friend, you know."

Narrowing her eyes and biting her lower lip, the injured reaper started twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I know you from somewhere, don't I?" she finally asked. "And that's why you know Will so well, and that's why you're being so nice - I may be a lady but I'm far from delicate, you know -, and that's why I remembered your name as soon as I came to, but where? Why are you so familiar?"

The elderly lady grinned sharply, and the redhead started. "I haven't only worked in the medical part of the London Division, dearie."

Grell's eyes widened as a blurry memory suddenly flashed into sharp clarity in her mind. A silver haired woman who still kept a few dark steaks of her natural colour twirling around a death scythe as if it were a baton, hacking and slashing until training dummies were reduced to mere piles of cloth and straw while a small group of reapers in training watched her with something bordering on awe.

"You were one of the instructors," the red reaper muttered, nodding to herself as she made the connection. "At the academy. You were the one who taught us newbies how to fight; how to take care of ourselves. How on Earth did you end up becoming a nurse?"

Gently taking the redhead's wrist to check her heart rate, Ellie replied, "I did start in the hospital once I had made it through the academy. Back in my day you didn't see many women in Dispatch - not that there are many Dispatch girls in London, but I've been around and the numbers have been swelling - and so I had the choice between medicine and secretarial duties. Oh, and Glasses Division, but I had always been horrid at making things. So I went to the hospital and began to learn how to be a nurse. Well, I ended up finding out that once you knew the power to heal-" here the woman gave Grell another one of those predatory grins that the red reaper was beginning to become accustomed to seeing on someone other than herself "well, you gain the power to hurt quite efficiently along with it. I was so good with my- ah, _occupation_ , as it was, that old Director O'Neal asked me one day if I could teach the newest incoming class at the academy. Ah, O'Neal. He was a good fellow; you wouldn't know him, but he was a wonderful Director. William is doing an excellent job living up to him, even if the poor boy's way of expressing his emotions is.. Well... Lacking," she added diplomatically, a half smile sneaking its way onto her face as she tightened her ponytail and glanced towards the door. "Goodness, where are those doctors? I called them a good five minutes ago, and they still haven't shown themselves."

"Ellieeeeeee!"

The shout came from the hallway, causing both reaper's heads to snap to attention. "We're on our way Miss Ellie!"

In came running a nurse, probably an apprentice, just a little slip of a girl, shortly followed by what must have been a doctor-in-training by his young face and frankly miniature stature. "We're here," the girl panted. "Sorry we're late, Miss Ellie!" the boy added. "Is this the patient we were called for?"

"Indeed it is," the elder woman confirmed with a wry smile. "Anthony, Francoise, this is Grell Sutcliff. Grell dearie, these are my protégés, Anthony and Francoise." Looking to the two newcomers, she added, "Grell was one of my best students when I taught at the academy. He came through... A little under a century ago, was it?" "That's it," the patient replied with a nod.

"Whoa! So you're the famous Grell Sutcliff?" Francoise asked gleefully, stars practically in her and her partner's eyes as they crowded around the hospital bed. "We've heard all about you; you're incredible!" Anthony exclaimed. "Is it true you took on the Phantomhive demon all by yourself?"

The redhead blinked. "My, my, do I have a fan club? Yes, that's quite right, but how on Earth did you kiddies know about-"

"Oh, you're amazing! We've been hearing stories about you all through the academy but we haven't been able to actually meet you until now!" This time it was the little nurse doing the admiring, grabbing her companion's hands, the pair hopping around in excitement. "It's an honour, really, it is! Oh! If it wouldn't be too much of a bother, would you mind telling us how you managed to-"

"Children," Ellie cut in. "I understand you're excited, but Grell is a patient. Where is Doctor Wayfield? We're waiting on him to finish the operation; you two certainly aren't adequately qualified and this is such a delicate surgery that I would only trust myself to finish it alone had I been there when it had been started."

The young reapers shared a look, and Anthony responded, "The Doctor should be here at any moment. He had to finish up a paper, but he said he would be right behind us." Hearing a noise coming from the entryway, Francoise added, "Here he is now."

Into the room came a reaper who looked to be in his mid-forties. He sported a long, white jacket befitting a doctor and had neat brown hair parted to the side. His eyes were genial, but once he had entered the man strode to the hospital bed with an air of a person with something to do and somewhere to be. "Hello Miss Ellie. Anthony. Francoise. Agent Sutcliff."

Wayfield received in greeting a smile from the most senior in the room, twin waves from the youngest, and a nod from the patient. "I would love to chat a moment," he continued briskly, boyish grin sneaking its way onto his face, "but I'm afraid that somebody here has a knife sticking out of them, and we cannot have that, now can we?" Turning to the reapers in training, the man ordered, "Anthony, Francoise, you two may observe the conclusion of this operation and take notes, just like last time, but please give us some space." The two moved back in agreement, grabbing each a notebook and pen from a nearby bedside table, and the doctor continued, "Miss Ellie, if you wouldn't mind being my assistance?"

"Naturally."

"Alright, then. Let's proceed as planned."

 **:::**

The operation, or, what Grell remembered of it, was fascinating (not that she would ever admit to _that_ particular fact. Othello would hold it over her head for _decades_ ). Anthony and Francoise were quiet for the most part, pausing in their frantic scribbling only to partake in quick, whispered conversations or to compare notes or numbers. For her part, Ellie demonstrated why she was one of the better nurses in London; deftly aiding the doctor in the removal of first the knife (which came out dripping blood, staining her sheets that beautiful bright red the patient loved so much) and later the jagged lower half of the claw that had imbedded itself in her. With a sort of morbid interest, the red reaper felt her lungs start to repair themselves as the medical staff began to clean and then wrap the injury in bandages.

Once the operation had been completed, the Doctor did a few routine checks: pulse, breathing, etc., before moving on to the head wound. As he unwound the cloth coverings, his assistant examined it. "It looks like it's healing up nicely," she stated, giving the now-scabbing flesh a gentle prod and elucidating a wince for her efforts. "The skin's forming over now that the poison's out of your system, and the bleeding seems to have stopped for the most part. Quite a speedy recovery, I daresay."

As they finished changing the bandages, Ellie shared a look with Wayfield. "Just needs rest and time to heal," the Doctor shrugged, and that seemed to be that.

 **:::**

It was four days after the operation, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Grell was ready to kill someone. She hadn't had any visitors other than Ellie (Anthony and Francoise had attempted to see her once - it didn't work out too well and led to them subsequently being banned from being within a five metre radius of her bed), and the redhead was out of her mind with boredom.

"Ellie," she called out for what must have been the thirtieth time, "may I start receiving visitors yet?" She knew what the answer would be, of course. 'Sorry dear, but you still need time to recuperate. A few days more, alright?', accompanied by one of the dangerously sweet smiles the nurse seemed to dish out in spades when she wanted others to cooperate.

The elderly reaper walked into the room, shedding a blood stained lab coat onto a vacant chair and picking up her clipboard and pen. Tying her hair up into a bun and securing it with a piece of string she brought out of her shirt's pocket, Ellie responded placidly, "Well, it has been four days... I suppose... Hmm. Tell you what. Let me see how you've been healing, and if all is well I'll let your friends come see you. Does that sound alright?"

Grell's eyes lit up. "Eh? _Really?_ "

The nurse merely smiled, and began unwinding the bandages around her patient's head, giving a satisfied nod when she saw the skin had returned to its normal state. "I daresay you won't be needing these anymore," she said to herself as she disposed of the now-unnecessary pieces of cloth. "Now, if your stitches can be taken out, I'll call Director Spears."

Examining the expanse of skin that had previously been punctured, the silver haired woman softly exclaimed, " _Aha!_ " as she saw the progress that has been made by the other reaper's natural healing factor. "I think you're all set," she stated solidly, smile slipping its way onto her face. "Now, let's get this over with and get your friends here."

 **:::**

"Director Spears? A message for you."

"Yes, what is it?"

"I've been told by Nurse Ellie Wordsworth to let you know that Agent Grell Sutcliff is up for receiving visitors, sir."

"Very well. Kindly inform Agent Knox of the news - he is currently off duty; you shouldn't have trouble finding him - and tell him to meet me outside the medical wing in precisely twenty minutes."

"Alright sir!"

 **:::**

Precisely nineteen minutes later, a dark haired man was tapping his foot impatiently outside an atrium filled to the brim with reapers rushing around him; swarming, veering, narrowly avoiding collisions with the practised ease of those who were used to such chaos.

"Director!"

The man's head snapped up. "Knox. Barely on time, I see." His blond companion didn't seem fazed by the comment. "You know me," he replied with a grin. A curt nod from his superior sent both reapers along a path they knew well; dodging their way through thick crowds less and less as they detoured from the steady flow of bodies in the main walking paths to the less crowded hallway that led to the recovery rooms.

"Here we are," William stated as they arrived at room twenty-two, and proceeded to rap sharply at the knocker. "Coming!" came the muffled cry from the inside, and the dark haired man took a swift step back as the door swung open to greet him.

Ellie's smiling face appeared in front of him. "See?" she called over her shoulder, craning her neck to let the sound travel better. "I told you they would come. And in less than half an hour at that!" Looking back to the two males, she cheerfully told them, "Come in, boys, come in; I daresay Grell's been waiting for you long enough."

As the pair entered, the nurse slipped past them out into the hallway. "I'll leave you three alone; Grell, dear, you know how to call me if need arises. Ta ta!"

The door closed behind her, and that seemed to break the spell of silence that had fallen upon the occupants of the room. With a joyful shout of, "Hey Mr. Sutcliff!", Ronald ran over the redhead, followed shortly by William.

"Hello, Ronnie," the reaper replied, grinning sharply as she sat up to greet the blond. "Miss me?"

He laughed. "Yeah right. Without you hanging around, I've been thriving." Winking, he added, "And I got a date." Grell gasped in mock horror, placing a hand to her forehead as if she were faint. "Without telling me? How utterly cruel!"

Ronald grinned. He _had_ missed this. "Oh I'm sure I hurt your feelings," he shot back sardonically. "So sorry for that. I'm guessing you haven't found anybody new by lazing around in bed all day." Swiftly sobering up as the thought struck him, the younger reaper asked, "But seriously, Mr. Sutcliff. How the hell did you manage to get yourself into this state?"

( _And suddenly, somehow there was a pain in her side where the knife had been, and she couldn't figure out what or how or why._ )

The redhead couldn't help letting her gaze flicker towards William as the laughter faded from her eyes and she answered, "I got a bit upset. Figured instead of making a bother of myself as I normally do, I could fight off some pent-up energy. So I wandered around outside for a bit. Got cornered by a group of demons - you'll find their bodies about five hundred paces south of Will's office - and received my head wound when one of them landed a lucky swipe on me. Came back through the window and left a note for Will, then went to London, just beating up whatever supernatural nuisances I came across. Ran across another demon - I believe it was a fox this time - who managed to stab me. It didn't affect me much but I decided to return anyway because I had lost quite a bit of blood by that point. I went through Forensics, meaning to slip in unnoticed, but right about then yet another demon broke in (it's almost like they were targeting me). Well, Othello and the others certainly couldn't kill it, I knew that well enough, so I took care of it, dragged myself to the Glasses Division, and you boys know the rest."

Taking the glass from her bedside table, she took a sip of water, pushing a lock of hair away from her face with her spare hand as she put it back. Looking at her visitors' serious expressions, the reaper commented, "My, you boys are looking dreadfully solemn. What's the matter? Don't tell me you were worried."

Neither of the two changed expression.

Grell blinked.

"Oh you two _cannot_ be serious. Were you honestly that concerned?"

Ronald gave an apologetic half-smile. William glared. " _Yes_ , Sutcliff, oddly enough," he replied pointedly, saying his first words since entering the room and adjusting his spectacles. "While apparently you have no regard for your own safety, that doesn't seem to apply to your coworkers."

The redhead narrowed her eyes, before her lips curled into a grin. "Are you saying it applies to my superiors? How horribly cruel you are!"

The blond reaper looked from her to their boss and back, and, with a wink and slight salute, casually said, "I'll leave you two alone, how about? Well, Mr. Sutcliff, I'll try and come visit tomorrow too. See ya!"

He left, and then there were two.

Grell yawned. "Well?" she asked, shaking her head and tapping her cheeks lightly to wake herself up. " _Were_ you worried, Will?" The dark haired man's eyebrow twitched, but he seemed content with sighing and shaking his head, muttering, "How I seem to be the only Director stuck with such underlings is beyond me; honestly Sutcliff, do you think I would be wasting time here if I didn't have some amount of concern for my subordinates' welfare?"

The red reaper began to twirl a strand of hair around a finger. "Touché," she admitted with a smirk, reaching to her water with her unoccupied hand. Pausing before the glass reached her lips, she looked to the man in front of her. "Which raises the question, Will. What exactly are you doing here? Not that I don't appreciate the company (I would have gone absolutely mad cooped up here without visitors for any longer), but arriving the moment your shift finishes? Oddly convenient timing, I must say."

William looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I believe I answered that question already," he evaded. His subordinate narrowed her eyes. "Oh no you don't. You shan't be getting out of this that easily. Now," she continued, reaching up to poke the man's shoulder with the hand that had been playing with her hair, "you're acting oddly, it's making this whole scene seem off, and something isn't right." Ignoring the dark haired man's muttered, "That sentence was incredibly redundant, Sutcliff", she finished, "What's been going through your head?"

Gritting his teeth, her superior replied, "There is nothing new of importance, not counting your recovery and an influx in overtime because of it."

Grell rolled her eyes. "Please. You practically hadn't said a word until I asked if you and Ron had been worried; there must be something wrong. Even you're not above complaining, Will, and I'm sure this little incident has given you plenty of reasons to do so. Spill it."

The man in front of her shifted in frustration, clenching his fists slightly and inadvertently opening up his body language. He was angry, the other reaper noticed. Quite angry.

"Why have I been acting strangely?" the man inquired acidly ( _and there was that pain again - the knife digging into her side, but this time the hurt was real, much more real_ ). "Perhaps it could have something to do with a certain-" he glared at Grell "-subordinate who not only ran off without the slightest permission on, what, a whim? but killed at least four high level demons and got himself thrown unceremoniously into critical care because of it, disrupting not only his own work but also that of his entire office and superior because they were running around multiple dimensions looking for him? But perhaps not, Sutcliff; I'm not certain, you tell me."

Two-toned eyes widened behind crimson glasses, and the subordinate's face paled even more than its usual tone. Then her eyes hardened, and blood began to rush to her cheeks in anger as she locked gaze with her superior's, finally, finally reaching the point where she remembered why she had gotten herself into the mess, her brain giving out blame accordingly. "And _what_ would you know about that?" the redhead spat out, sharpening her posture so she was sitting up straight as a board. "You're the reason why I ran off in the first place, you know!"

William froze. "Excuse me?"

But Grell was just getting started. She was incensed now. ( _But if this was all Will's fault, why was the pain still there?_ ) "Oh you heard me perfectly well," she hissed, lowering her voice so her words wouldn't cause anyone to enter the room to see what was going on and swinging her legs around the side of the bed, slowly but steadily managing to stand and stare down the man in front of her. "I may not be the hardest worker, Will, but I am not just some bother you have to babysit. Not since the Jack the Ripper incident. _Never_ since the Jack the Ripper incident. Just because I have fun during my work (unlike a _certain_ superior of mine who I could name) doesn't mean I haven't been doing my job diligently for centuries. I am perfectly capable of being a reaper (though heavens know _you_ certainly don't think so) and I'll have you know that I just singlehandedly got rid of no, not four, but _seven_ high-class demons that have been plaguing this division for _decades_. So, for the love of god, William T. Spears don't you _dare_ try and pin this on me!"

She was standing now, attempts at not shouting abandoned in favour of looming over the dark haired man, face twisted up and flushed in anger, fists clenched, posture tensed, ready to attack ( _and somehow she was still in pain, because a knife was digging into her side and the only way she could get it out was this_ ). "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" she ground out, teeth grit, eyes murderous. "Or will you be leaving now, _Will darling?_ "

The man in question, who hadn't moved once since her tirade began, winced ever so slightly, just a twitch, but she could see it plain as day. Her blow had hit, and hit hard. ( _So why did that make her feel worse?_ ). The redhead tossed her hair, whirling away in disgust and going to ring the bell that would summon Ellie back to her side, but as she reached her arm out, she found her wrist caught.

Caught by a pale hand, which led to an equally pale wrist, which led to a suit jacket-clad arm, which in turn led to a ( _was it possible?_ ) nervous William T. Spears. "Wait a moment," he instructed, voice monotone as ever. Grell huffed and turned towards him, looking to the man's face with an expression of frustration. "What do you want, Will?"

The reaper in front of her took a deep breath, sighing as he exhaled but not in an impatient manner. More to steady himself. Quietly, he replied, "I apologize."

Grell blinked, not daring to move ( _and for a moment the knife stayed, as if on the verge of shattering_ ). "What was that?"

"I said," the dark haired man repeated irritably, voice stronger (as if he found some small security in the mere act of being annoyed), "I apologize. My manner was out of line, and my actions led to a valuable subordinate's injury. Therefore, I am sorry." He levelled his gaze on the redhead. "Kindly don't make me say it again."

The redhead bit her lip and twisted her wrist away ( _because moment by moment since that first admittance of wrongdoing, the pain had started to fade_ ). "So now what? It's not that I don't appreciate the apology (which was long overdue, might I add), I do, but I refuse to let you keep in your mind the image of Grell Sutcliff, nuisance extraordinaire." ( _And it was almost gone, almost gone, just a little bit more now_ ). Her brow furrowing slightly, she added in attempt to lighten the mood, "I do have a reputation to uphold. Can't exactly be deadly efficient without death, you know."

William adjusted his spectacles, his posture relaxing, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Don't trouble yourself with worrying. I wasn't intending on thinking only a nuisance of you. I have put up with you for over a century, Sutcliff; I know you're more than a nuisance."

The injured reaper say back down on the hospital bed, blinking at the uncharacteristic sentimentality ( _not that it was much, but it was more emotion than the man would normally release in a day_ ). "Really, Will?"

A glimmer of ( _could it be laughter? a smirk? But no, this was Will. Out of the question)_ shone in the other's eyes. "Certainly. In my mind, Grell Sutcliff is a diligent worker (when he's not slacking off), a valuable reaper (providing he doesn't get distracted), and also a nuisance extraordinaire."

( _And with that, the knife shattered into nothingness_ ).

Grell took one look at her superior, buried her head in her hands, and started to laugh. "Alright Will. You're forgiven. This hasn't been forgotten, but you're forgiven," was the muffled response. "Now let me call Ellie back in. I need to finish healing as soon as possible if I'm to return to work in the near future. After all," she added, looking up and ringing the bell to summon her nurse, "where would the London Division be without me?" "Quite plausibly dealing with much less paperwork," the man in front of her replied, but his tone was lighter than it had been all day.

The door to the room opened then, and both reapers looked up the entrance where Ellie was standing. William gave his subordinate a nod, and, with a call of, "Good day, Sutcliff" and a wave in greeting to the nurse, he left the room.

The silver haired woman smiled as she strode over to her patient. "I heard you'd been feeling like a knife had been digging into you recently, dearie," she mentioned slyly to the redhead. "Are you feeling better now?"

Grell grinned sharply ( _because everything was back to normal, so why would a knife ever bother her anyway?_ ).

"You know, I do think I am."

 **:::**

 **Oh dear god. So, again, that took a very long time to write, and while I can't exactly guarantee this sort of thing won't happen again, I will TRY MY BEST THAT IT DOESN'T!**

 **Please tell me how I did OOC-wise in the comments, and, speaking of, since I forgot to reply to the comments last time, here we are now!**

 **Tirnel: Again, thanks so much! (Oh boy am I ever replying late) And don't worry about the, as you put it, less than elaborate review; it was still nice of you to do so!**

 **See ya!**

 **-Ua**


	6. Chapter Six: Enormous

**Greetings Earthlings! GUYS! GUYS! I'M ALIVE! Um, so, I think I'm just gonna end up being one of those authors who comes out once a month with 5k long chapters (man I wish I could give you updates on how far I am into chapters as I write them), so here's gonna be my blanket apology for being super bad at updating for the rest of the fic. *closes eyes* *deep breath* I APOLOGIZE SO MUCH I AM SO SORRY GUYS I KNOW HOW HARD THE WAIT CAN BE AND I SUCK I KNOW AND I'M SUPER DUPER SORRY AND I'M JUST REALLY BUSY A LOT OF THE TIME BUT I SWEAR I DO WRITE STILL I REALLY DO SO PLEASE JUST BEAR WITH ME BECAUSE I LOVE WRITING DSAG AND I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY READING IT AS WELL! Okay, there we are.**

 **IMPORTANT! The POV switches during this chapter. A lot. So here's UA's Guide To POV Switching: Whenever the POV switches, the first word that follows the switch will be bolded. You'll know whose POV it is because it will always be a name. So, if you see a "William" or "Sutcliff" in bold, it's Will's POV, and if you see "Will" or "Grell" it's Grell's POV. Got it? Good.**

 **Also! This chapter references a lot of other chapters in this fic, especially Chapter Two (Rampant). If you've forgotten who Nessie is, go read Chapter Two and then come back. Grell's injury from Hurt and Knife comes into play as well.**

 **Warning: I think you guys know who Othello is by now, so this is the last time I'll warn you about him. If, of course, there are spoilers for him, then I'll put him in the warning. Also, there are some decisions by certain characters that won't make sense unless you've seen/read Book of Atlantic (the Campagnia arc), but they're not real spoilers, they'll just seem like stupid decisions unless you know certain things. Um, also, I'm touching on the anime canon here as for Butler!Grell and Lizzy having met.**

 **Disclaimer: WHY CAN'T I OWN KUROSHITSUJIIIIIIIIIIIIII *sobs***

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

 **Death Scythes and Glasses**

 **.**

 **Enormous**

 **:::**

 **William** stared. "Sutcliff... What exactly are you doing with a box the size of a small polar bear?"

The redhead in question froze, guiltily looking up from where he had been attempting to sneak said object past his superior's desk without the man noticing. "Interesting comparison, Will," he commented uncomfortably, obviously trying to worm his way out of answering. "Er, why do you say polar bear?"

The dark haired reaper sighed. "Sutcliff," he asked with the utmost patience (certainly not betrayed by the quasi-irritated glint in his eye. Certainly not), "what is in the box you're carrying?"

"Ah Will, you see, that's a funny story," his subordinate laughed uneasily, shifting his grip on the box. "Well, I was on a job, and–"

The box rattled and shook in his grasp. William drew his eyebrows together in bafflement. Sutcliff frowned. "Oh dear. That's not good," the man muttered, setting the box down to push up his glasses, running his other hand through his hair distractedly. "They're getting restless."

"They?" the dark haired reaper demanded. "Who are they?"

"Not my responsibility," was the answer, and his subordinate promptly knelt down and took a pin from his hair, using it to slit the sides of the box open and undoing the top flaps. Peering in, he exclaimed, "You'll be free in a minute. Just let me deliver you to Othello and you can waddle around to your hearts' content, I don't care! Just stay still for a few more minutes!"

Looking back to William, the red reaper sighed, apparently weighing the pros and cons of what he was about to do in his mind, then asked, "Would you give me a hand? If I can just get this thing to Forensics it'll be out of my hair, and I say the sooner, the better."

Furrowing his eyebrows, the dark haired man glanced to his pruning pole, leaning against his desk, and shook his head, standing and pacing over to where his subordinate was posed, hands on hips, staring stubbornly at whatever was inside his box.

He heard a squawk, peeked inside the box, and promptly straightened up, fixing Sutcliff with an incredulous stare. "Penguins?" William coughed, now impossibly more confused than ever. "How on Earth did you get penguins? Where on Earth did you get penguins? Why do you need the creatures, anyways?"

"Well they're not mine," the redhead huffed out, closing the top of the box once more and motioning for his superior to help him pick it up. When the dark haired reaper obliged, he elaborated, "Othello needs them for one experiment or another. I'm not sure why (I certainly don't keep track of such things), but it was an interesting little side trip and I've been so bored recently, so I offered to go get some for him. Here," he added, carefully guiding them out the door with their baggage, "this way."

His superior barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "I am quite aware of the route to Forensics, Sutcliff," he deadpanned. As the two turned a corner (getting a few odd glances their way from the reapers they passed on their way), William felt his mouth turn up in a thoughtful frown, and, before he could regret asking, inquired, "Where did you manage to find penguins? They're not exactly native to London, much less our dimension."

The redhead grinned wickedly, replying, "I just finished my last collection of the day, so I took a bit of a side trip south at the end," with a toss of his hair that caused William's vision to be blocked for a few moments. When the veil of red had settled, the reaper furrowed his eyes in confusion as he belatedly realized the route they were taking was most certainly not one which lead to Forensics. "Sutcliff," he began, "where–"

"Well I never said we were going to Forensics, now did I?" Sutcliff interrupted with a wink. "I told you we were headed to where Othello is. Now hurry up and for heaven's sake stay quiet; these penguins aren't going to move themselves and the last time I bothered Othello while he was working, he lectured my ear off for a good three hours. Bo~ring! So since I don't want a repeat of that, I suggest we both pipe down until this box has been delivered."

Effectively stunned into silence by the unexpected (if playful) reprimand, William swallowed his thoughts and nodded curtly, allowing his subordinate to guide him through the halls near Glasses to a door which lead to the London Division's outer courtyard; a bright place filled with cheerful meadows and more sunlight than ought to be possible at the current time of year, especially considering the Division was a mirror image of mortal London itself. The dark haired reaper shifted his grip on the box as he silently maneuvered his way to a spot he gauged to be around five hundred paces south of his office. He shot a questioning look to the redhead, who huffed and broke the no-speech policy by answering the unasked inquiry. "Yes," was the muttered reply. "This was where I fought that group of demons. No one comes out here, so I figured it would be a good spot to cross over into mortal London unnoticed."

' _Mortal London? What on earth could that experiment be?_ ' Barely refraining from voicing his confusion, William instead scowled, asking Sutcliff, "Well? Where are we headed? It would be a hassle if we attempted to cross to two different ends of London while carrying this–" the box rattled, and the dark haired man shot it a death glare "–infernal box."

Shifting his grip on the object he was carrying to be able to run a hand through his crimson hair, the redhead answered, "Well, I was to be meeting Othello on the roof of the Hopkins Tailor Shoppe." Shooting his superior a wayward glance and biting his bottom lip, the reaper inquired, "Er, you do know where that is, correct?"

"Naturally," William muttered, not missing a beat. "All reapers in our Division are mandated to know London like the back of their hands." Shaking his head, he added, "To think I didn't know where something was.. Honestly..."

The corners of Sutcliff's mouth twitched up. "I was just checking," he said. "Cross dimensions on the count of three?" "Very well," nodded his superior.

"One..." the redhead began, "two... and three!"

 **:::**

The two box-carriers landed in a crouch on the roof of the tailor shop to find a disappointed Othello standing next to another Forensics reaper. William noted that the pair looked vaguely intimidated to see him (and he couldn't blame them, the dark haired reaper remembered who had been behind the red paint incident) as set down the box, Sutcliff bustling over to the other two.

"Hello Othello. Nessie," the redhead greeted with a toss of his hair and a wink. "I got the penguins."

The bushy-haired male smiled sadly. "Thanks Grell, but we're going to have to postpone this experiment for a while." Looking to William, he greeted, "Director Spears", with a nod.

"Whaaaaaaaaaattt?" Sutcliff exclaimed, ever the melodramatic. "What would make you two 'Geek Of The Century's postpone?"

Rolling his eyes at the title, Othello pointed to the street below them. "We were planning on having our experiment here," Nessie elaborated, "but then... Well, there was a bit of an incident." Shooting a glare at the bushy haired reaper, she added sharply, "Not that that needs to stop us, necessarily; Othello is just being petulant."

"Petulant? I'm being cautious, thanks very much!" was the indignant reply.

William, curious (and remembering just now that neither he nor Sutcliff had their death scythes; quite careless of them), furrowed his eyebrows. "What manner of incident?" he asked sharply.

The woman grimaced, and her partner explained, "Someone who we do not want seeing any of our going ons is in the tailor's right now."

Sutcliff tilted his head to the side (the penguins had been making a racket so the man may have been listening to that, however, William suspected this was more for effect as he and Nessie went to calm the creatures down), waving a hand airily. "All right," the red reaper agreed, "that makes sense enough, but who is this person? And why don't you want them to be around when you do... er, whatever you're going to do... with the penguins?"

From his position packing the last of the penguins (who seemed to have escaped during the first part of the conversation at hand) in their box, the Director of the London Division saw Othello pout. "Well," the bushy haired reaper replied, "the reason we–" seeing the glare Nessie shot him at the words, he hastily corrected himself "–fine, the reason I don't want this girl getting too tangled up in our data is because she's close to the Earl of Phantomhive, and–" he threw to his partner a glare of his own, daring her to contradict his next words "–we don't want to have a demon on our hands, especially with what happened to you a few weeks ago."

Sutcliff gave Othello an irritable scowl for having brought his all-too recent injury up, but motioned for him to go on, idly murmuring, "I wonder if I've met this girl." At the other reaper's confused look, the redhead sighed, hanging his head slightly and muttering, "Jack the Ripper" as explanation.

Othello's eyes widened in understanding before he continued. "Anyways, the girl is one Lady–"

A high-pitched squeal of delight from the shop below cut him off as a blonde girl and her maid skipped onto the Hopkins' fourth-floor balcony. "Oh, isn't this wonderful, Paula?" the girl was asking. "You can practically see all of London from up here!"

Back on the rooftop, Othello sighed, motioning towards the girl. "Yeah. Her," he finished dejectedly as William and Nessie approached him, penguins safely secured in their crate.

Sutcliff stared, incredulous. "You're stopping an experiment because of Lady Elizabeth Fifteen-Middle-Names Midford?" he asked. His superior walked up beside him, inquiring, "And how exactly is the young Lady connected to the Earl?"

Nessie opened her mouth to answer, but Sutcliff beat her to it. "She's his fiancée." William snapped his incredulous gaze around to meet his subordinate's eyes. "Excuse me?" he managed weakly. The redhead waved a hand airily. "Apparently they were betrothed at birth by their parents," he hummed in explanation. "She's the brat's cousin; I'm fairly certain her mother was the late Earl's sister."

Nessie crept closer to the ledge of the roof in an attempt to take a better look at the young girl. Feeling her partner's stare on her back, she turned around, crossing her arms. "What?" she huffed. "I was curious."

Striding across to the middle of the roof and removing a pen she had shoved behind her ear in the process, the female Forensics expert turned on Othello. "Listen," she said. "I know you have reservations about this Lady Elizabeth. I do too. But you know as well as I that we simply cannot postpone this experiment!"

Her partner crossed his arms sullenly. "Well we can't do it with her here, either, so what do you suggest?"

Nessie looked at Othello as if he was an idiot. "Imbecile! Do what we always do: cause a disturbance! Think of something that she'll want to run towards and interact with, or–or something that'll distract her from the tailor; I honestly don't care, just let's figure something out and figure it quick because _we're running out of time!_ "

The bushy haired reaper began to pace the roof anxiously, waving his hands around wildly in frustration. "Do you really think that's not what I've been trying to figure out for the past two hours?" he burst out. "Do you really think I don't know that today is the only day we can do this? I know I'm generally pretty relaxed, but even I know what deadlines we have to respect!" Suddenly dropping to a seated position on the ground, he ran his hands through his hair. "The higher-ups are going to kill us," the reaper groaned.

During this little stand-off, William and Sutcliff had been loitering (a touch uncomfortably) off to the side. "Do you have any knowledge of why the experiment needs to be today?" the Director of the London Division muttered to his subordinate, who shrugged in response before replying, "But I intend to find out. It's a bit curious to see Othello have an outburst like this." Glancing at his superior, the redhead added, "I'll be right back" and approached the pair from Forensics.

Cautiously tapping Nessie on the shoulder, Sutcliff inquired, "Er, why exactly can't you just do this experiment another day?"

The other reaper sighed. "Well, today's the day of the Annual London Tailor's Convention. Tailors from around the city gather and have a... show, of sorts, to show off their latest works. As the name implies, it only happens once a year, and we wanted to see if penguins could simulate a break-in while Miss Hopkins was out. Some other teams from Forensics are doing the same at other tailor shops with different animals. This is the last in a series of tests, and the higher-ups want the results of the whole thing by the end of this year, so we can't exactly wait until next year to do this. We overheard Miss Hopkins saying that once the Lady's left she'd be off for the convention, but she also mentioned she might not be able to make it if the fitting took too long." Glancing desolately at the redhead, she asked, "You don't happen to have any bright ideas on how to get Lady Elizabeth away from the shop, do you?"

Sutcliff bit his lip, thinking, arms folded over one another. Then he brightened up. "Actually, I may have just the thing."

Othello looked over, curious. "Really?"

The red reaper grinned. "Yes, I think this will work quite nicely."

William couldn't contain his question. "What is this plan of yours, Sutcliff?"

"Well~"

 **:::**

"That's..." Nessie began. "–Not a bad idea, actually," her partner finished. Sutcliff smiled enthusiastically. "It's been far too long since I've acted in anything; I'm quite excited about this." Glancing to his superior, he inquired, "Will, what do you think?"

The dark haired reaper nodded slowly. "It isn't a bad tactic," he admitted. "But are you certain the Lady will recognize you?" His subordinate shrugged. "I think so," he said lightly. "If I linger long enough, she probably will." Glancing to the two from Forensics, he asked, "So, this plan is a go?"

Othello and Nessie shared a glance. "Sure," the male replied. "Let's do it."

Sutcliff grinned sharply. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. I'll be but a moment."

 **:::**

"So," the no-longer-a-redhead asked, "what do you think?"

William had to admit, the disguise was impressive. He had never seen Sutcliff look quite so... normal. With his normally crimson hair changed to a respectable brown and tied up in the back with a bow, his two-toned eyes now a muted green (and hidden behind plain, wire-rimmed glasses), and wearing barely any red aside from accessories, William wasn't sure he would have recognized the man in front of him had he not known who it was. Even his subordinate's body language had changed, going from a confident, squared-shoulders stance to a meek, slightly hunched-over position befitting the incompetent butler he was playing. The Director nodded. "There is very little to connect your persona with the Sutcliff I know," he approved.

Said persona twirled around the roof in delight. "Oh this is fun!" he exclaimed, jumping onto the chimney, grin spreading across his face. "I just love being an actress!" Hopping off his perch, the reaper approached his colleagues. "Well," he said, "I'm ready." Whirling around in preparation to leave the rooftop, he paused a moment, turning back slightly in order to throw one last remark over his shoulder. "Oh, and I'll be acting quite differently than I normally do. Be prepared."

And with that, Sutcliff jumped off the roof and onto the ground below.

William glanced to Othello and Nessie. "Well," he prompted, "shall we watch?"

 **:::**

 **Grell** landed neatly from her leap off the roof in an abandoned alleyway below and took a few deep breaths. This wasn't what she had expected for the day when she agreed to lend Othello a hand, but she certainly wasn't complaining. Looking up to the balcony above her, she waited until she saw Miss Hopkins, who had been taking a breath of fresh air, turn to return inside. That was when the reaper made her move.

Strolling her way out of the alley, she walked along the street, pausing outside the Tailor Shoppe and examining the window display, exclaiming in a voice loud enough to carry, "Oh, the dresses are so beautiful. A nice, neat trim, too. Though I wish there were more options in red... Still. This kind of craftsmanship is rare. So beautiful..."

As she shyly fawned over the fashion display, Grell had to smother a grin when she saw the tailor above her shaking her head and tutting in annoyance, walking inside and heading to the stairs that lead to the ground floor. ' _Seems like Miss Hopkins has noticed me. Lovely. All according to plan._ '

The reaper continued to gawk at the dresses right up until the moment the tailor opened the door beside her (Lady Elizabeth trailing behind curiously in her wake). "And what," Miss Hopkins demanded, "are you doing, young man?"

Doing her best to look frightened and abashed on the outside (on the inside she was quite irritated. 'Young man'? The nerve of this woman! Shouldn't she recognize a lady when she saw one?), Grell jumped a little in surprise. "Oh I'm terribly sorry," she apologized fervently, scuttling a touch away from the (she had to admit, slightly intimidating) woman in front of her and raising her hands in front of her in surrender. "I was just passing through when the window display happened to catch my eye. I'm so sorry; it's just that the dresses were so beautiful I simply had to take a look at them. I–I'll leave at once if I was bothering you. Was I bothering you? Oh I knew it! I apologize, truly, I do."

Shifting so she was able to be seen from inside the tailor shop, Grell's eyes gleamed as she saw Lady Elizabeth creeping closer curiously ever so slowly. Continuing her babbling monologue, the 'butler' gradually began to pace, moving to and from the door and generally making herself as visible and distracting as possible. The young blonde girl was now openly staring at the disguised reaper with an expression of frustration, as if she were trying to remember something but couldn't quite put her finger on it. ' _Perfect,_ ' Grell thought. In a flourishing movement, the ex-redhead put the final piece into place: grabbing a dagger from out of seemingly nowhere (the Lady's eyes widening in dawning understanding), she exclaimed, "I've been so terribly irritating, haven't I? Oh, perhaps all I can do left now is di–"

"Wait a moment, you!"

' _Lady Elizabeth. And about time, too._ ' Grell paused in her over-the-top endeavours to look to the girl and motion to herself in surprise. "Me?"

The younger mortal nodded fiercely, neatly secured curls bobbing up and down with the motion of her head. "Yes, you. I know you! You were Auntie Angelina's butler, weren't you?"

Grell froze in her tracks as if struck still upon the mention of that name. (Of course, it wasn't as if it was easy to hear; 'Auntie Angelina', poor, beautiful Angelina Durless, but the red reaper had to overact for the moment's sake.) "You knew Madame?" she asked timidly, lowering the knife as she spoke. "She was my Aunt," the Lady affirmed, politely pushing past Miss Hopkins, dress fluttering as she walked. "And I think I've met you before; at Ciel's house, wasn't it? You were the one who made all the bushes look adorable!"

Grell blinked, memories of trimming bush after bush into the form of a skull rushing back to her. ' _She thought that was_ adorable? _Who is this girl?_ ' Outwardly, she made her eyes widen. "Oh yes," she murmured, "I remember that day. Mister Sebastian was helping me learn my duties properly when you came over to decorate the mansion, is that correct?"

The girl beamed in reply, glad that Grell remembered. Turning back to Miss Hopkins, who was listening in on the conversation, an eyebrow raised, the blonde sweetly asked, "Miss Nina, would you mind terribly if we finished the fittings some other time? I don't want to work you too hard; I'm sure you must have other projects you're working on, and I heard something about the London Tailor Convention being today?"

Inwardly, Grell smirked. ' _Success._ '

The woman nodded in accord. "I've just about finished, in any case. Your orders are a winter outfit and a long-sleeved gown, correct? I should have them ready in two weeks, give or take."

The Lady smiled and gave her thanks before calling out towards the back of the tailor shop, "Paula? We're going to go!"

"Coming, my Lady!"

A brunette came rushing out of the back room, and Grell was rather forcefully reminded of the day she met Anthony and Francoise. Nurse Ellie's two protégés had ran into the room and crowded around her in a much similar fashion to what this Paula seemed to be doing to her charge.

"As soon as I'm done changing back, let's go to a cafe, Paula," the girl requested. Then, turning to address Grell, the Lady inquired, "Mister Grell, would you like to come with us?"

Grell's eyebrows shot up. "Are you certain, my Lady? I'm sure I would just be a bother to you–"

"Nonsense!" the girl interrupted firmly, waving down the reaper's protests. "I remember you were close to Auntie Angelina, and I'd like to share memories of her, if that's alright with you."

This time it was Miss Hopkins who spoke. "You're positive you'll be alright?" she asked sharply. The blonde replied with an ambiguous, "Don't worry, I'll be fine!", her eyes flickering towards the handle of a nearby parasol, which Grell could only assume be hers. Catching sight of the parasol, the tailor's mouth turned up in a smirk. "I almost forgot. How foolish of me." The woman ushered the Lady back into the changing room, and Paula, in a surprisingly successful attempt at dodging an awkward silence, asked, "So, you were Madame Angelina's butler?"

Grell nodded. "Yes," she affirmed. "Madame was a wonderful person to work for, and she always accepted me no matter how much grief I caused her." ' _Though,_ ' the redhead thought to herself, ' _I didn't accept her, in the end._ '

Paula tilted her head inquisitively. "What do you mean grief?" she inquired, before hastily backtracking with a, "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Grell waved her hands about frantically to excuse the question. "Oh no, not at all! You see," she answered, staring down at her feet in shame, "I was never much of a butler. I've always been a clumsy person–it's in my nature–but Madame saw past that and hired me despite my incompetence." Looking back up at Paula, who was nodding sympathetically, Grell continued her act. "I was always making messes; dropping things, forgetting responsibilities, rushing into jobs and losing my head when things invariably went downhill." Well, that was something that still held true, but then again every good lie had its roots in truth.

Tightening her ponytail, the reaper smiled sadly. "I do miss Madame."

Paula approached Grell, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder and nodding gently. "Who do you work for now?" the brunette asked, taking the conversation on a safer route. Thinking fast, Grell answered, "The London Division of a firm that helps lost souls, er, find their way, if that makes any sense." Oh, the reaper just knew Othello would burst into laughter should he hear that particular response. Paula, seeing Grell's change to a lighter tone, grinned and nodded, moving back to a respectable distance just as Lady Elizabeth returned, this time clad in a casual day dress. The blonde began walking out of the shop, calling to behind her, "Thank you again, Miss Nina; it was a pleasure to see you! Come on, Paula; let's go! And Mister Grell, you come along too, alright?"

"Oh–ah, alright!" With no choice in the matter, Grell trailed helplessly behind the cheerful girl, wondering exactly what she had gotten herself into this time.

 **:::**

 **William** was on the verge of impatience when his subordinate finally exited the tailor shop, following the Lady Elizabeth. Though the dark haired man was normally all for waiting, Sutcliff had been gone for far too long, and William had begun to start getting antsy.

Not just antsy.

Suspicious.

Nessie and Othello had been doing quite well. The pair had elected to sit on the edge of a nearby balcony and listen in on Sutcliff's conversation, but William, being taller and thus more conspicuous than the two, had had no such option.

' _But,_ ' he reflected, watching the red reaper flounder out onto the street, following the Lady, and seeing Othello and Nessie shoot looks of contentment at each other, satisfied, ' _that isn't the only issue with this picture, is it? But if so, what on Earth is bothering me–Oh. I understand._ That's _why? Honestly..._ '

It was seeing Sutcliff act so meekly that was throwing him off.

That was it.

Because William was so used to flair, to flamboyance, to melodrama in the least important of moments. It was almost wrong to see confident, irritating, larger-than-life Sutcliff acting like some scared servant. It didn't fit.

(The fact that the dark haired man had jumped a foot in the air when Sutcliff had pulled out the dagger was of little importance. A slit throat wouldn't kill his subordinate.)

(William was most certainly not thinking about how reapers were made. The past was the past.)

' _In any case,_ ' William reflected, abandoning the duo from Forensics with a curt nod and beginning to trail his most troublesome subordinate from the rooftops, ' _it won't do to have Sutcliff running amok the rest of the afternoon. There is work to be done._ '

Noticing Sutcliff and company enter a quaint café, William dropped from the chimney he was standing on into an abandoned alleyway. Taking a moment to compose himself, the reaper adjusted his glasses, sighed, and walked out into the street.

 **:::**

 **Grell** blinked innocently, readjusting her glasses. "I'm so terribly sorry, but what did you say?"

Miss Lizzy (the kid had simply not taken 'No' for an answer in regards to being called by the nickname; well, whatever) giggled. "I was just wondering what your work has been like lately!" Paula, from her seat in between her charge and the reaper, chimed in, "You said, before, something about helping lost souls, right?"

Grell began to poke her fingers together shyly. "Ah, yes; that's correct," she affirmed. "I work at the London Division of my organization, but it's fairly small, so all of us that work there know each other quite well. My coworkers are very kind, as is my superior–though he's much too proud to show it." Making her eyes widen once more and flushing (' _I should be getting an award for this performance._ '), the reaper began to wave her arms wildly in apology. "Oh, but I'm sure this isn't of interest to you. I'm so terribly sorry for bothering you with all these unnecessary details!" she stammered hastily, bowing her head.

The blonde merely smiled. "No, no; it's very interesting!" she responded. "I'd love to hear more, if you don't mind."

Grell peeked at the girl through her hair. "Really?" Biting her lip, she cautiously said, "Well, if you're certain–"

"Sutcliff. There you are."

The reaper whipped around to stare in disbelief at one distinctly disgruntled Will. With a cry of, "Ah! Director Spears, sir!", Grell pushed herself to a standing position, bowing slightly to her (very confused, she could tell) superior before turning back to Miss Lizzy and Paula. "Miss Lizzy, Miss Paula," she introduced, "this is my direct superior at my workplace, Director William T. Spears. Director Spears, sir, this is Lady Elizabeth Midford and Miss Paula."

Understanding visibly dawning, Miss Lizzy stood and curtsied. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she chirped. Will, Grell noted in silent amusement, was looking more uncomfortable by the minute, but hid it valiently as he bowed his head and replied, "It is my pleasure as well." Glancing at the dark haired man, Grell frowned as a thought struck her. "May we have a moment?" she asked the ladies. At Miss Lizzy's nod, the red reaper all but dragged her superior off.

Once they were out of earshot, the man crossed his arms and shot her a look. "Sutcliff, what on earth–"

Grell glared venomously, all semblance of meekness vanishing as her eyes flashed dangerously. "Will, if you blow my cover I swear on my gloriously immaculate grave I will end you."

Her superior, long used to such displays, piqued an eyebrow. "I suppose," he said, after a short pause (during which Grell held his gaze pointedly and he conspicuously did not look discomforted from the glare), "that it is of no matter one way or another as to whether the child knows of us." He paused once more, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "And it would cause more paperwork if the demon became involved, wouldn't it? Honestly..."

Looking to his subordinate, Will sighed. "Do what you will to excuse yourself from the Lady's presence," he told her. Grell brightened considerably. "Goodness, Will; you're being generous today!" she chirped. The dark haired man glared. "Now, Sutcliff. Though you may not have any more cases assigned to you today, you certainly make up for it in forms that you haven't yet filled out." The other reaper pouted ("You're no fun!"), but obediently began to walk towards the mortals, motioning for Will to follow her and informing him that he was to stay quiet for the next while. Resigned, the man followed.

Grell curled in on herself as she moved, once more adopting the butler persona like a shed cloak. She vaguely registered Will trailing behind her like a little lost puppy dog (though the reaper decided to keep that particular comparison to herself - or perhaps just share with a few people) as she made her way back to Miss Lizzy and Paula.

Arriving once more at the table, Grell bowed her head. "I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, looking first at the girl and next her maid, "but I must get going." At their confused looks, she gestured to Will. "Director Spears has just informed me there's been a crisis. They need all the help they can get."

Miss Lizzy's eyes widened, before the girl began nodding in earnest. "Oh, we understand!" she assured the 'butler', Paula following her charge's lead but a second later. "Go ahead; you're needed there." Suddenly locking eyes with Grell, the blonde added fiercely, "And do stay safe! I shan't see anyone hurt!"

Pondering that last sentence, Will lingering not far behind, the red reaper gave the girl a genuine–if toned down–smile. "You mustn't worry about me," Grell stated. "After all, I may not seem it, but when needed I can be quite deadly efficient."

She glanced at Will. "Farewell Miss Lizzy. Miss Paula," she bid, nodding to each lady in turn. Her superior proceeded to do much the same, before the two reapers turned, beginning to walk away. "Goodbye, Mister Grell!" the child called after them. "Nice to meet you, Director Spears!"

Grell raised a hand in acknowledgement, not looking back.

The two reapers walked until they were out of sight, before returning to their home realm.

 **:::**

 **William** sighed. It had been two days since the debacle with the penguins, and while all the reapers in Forensics had seemed quite content ever since, his workers had had an influx of deaths. Even he hadn't been spared having to go out in the field. So there the dark haired man was, returning from his last collection of the day, when he saw a flash of blonde catch his eye as he passed the Phantomhive Manor. Sparing a glance, he realized it was Lady Elizabeth, sitting on the lawn, peering through a thick, leather bound book and humming to herself.

Jumping into a nearby tree, William was preparing to return to his realm when he heard her speak.

"I knew something was off," she said, setting the book on the grass. "Grell Sutcliff died in the seventeen hundreds."

William froze from his perch.

The Lady flopped onto her back. "And the description of him completely fits, too. I suppose Mister Grell isn't entirely human, after all." Expression turning somber, she gazed up at the sky, shielding her eyes with a hand. "Oh Auntie Angelina. Whatever did you get yourself into?"

William shook his head and teleported back to the reaper realm.

And as he took in the familiar sight of Knox rushing past him in a panic, yelling, "Mister Sutcliff, what the hell have you done this time?", the dark haired man felt his eyebrow begin to twitch.

Stalking towards the redhead, all he could think was, ' _Sutcliff, you are in enormous trouble._ '

(But, quite honestly, wasn't he always?)

 **:::**

 **So, what did you think? I appreciate any and all feedback so long as it's positive. (Aha I'm kidding – please leave any constructive criticism you may have for me; I'd appreciate it ^-^).**

 **Man, I love Lizzy. I was gonna do a separate fic where she and Grell met but then decided to put it into DSAG. She and Butler!Grell are both super fun to write.  
**

 **Also, if you guys like my Grelliam stuff (lol doubtful), check out my story Noah's Ark. It's season three from Will's POV and it's pretty fun (in my opinion, at least). By the by, feel free to review if you have any good Grelliam fic suggestions; I'm always looking for something new to read.**

 **Happy reading, guys.**

 **See ya!**

 **-UA**


	7. Chapter Seven: Entertain

**Greetings Earthlings! 'Tis I, your friendly neighbourhood fangirl, bearing a fresh new Grelliam oneshot for the (not so) teeming masses. No POV changes this time, folks.**

 **Warning: Uhhhhhh, just me egregiously mishandling Shakespeare, I suppose.**

 **Disclaimer: I own neither Kuroshitsuji, nor the character John. John is blatantly stolen from another fandom (though you don't need to know it to read this chapter), and I have no claim over him. Good luck trying to figure out who he is.**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

Death Scythes and Glasses

.

Entertain

 **:::**

"Will, I'm bored!"

William straightened a pile of documents he still needed to approve. "Congratulations, Sutcliff. Shouldn't you be doing something?"

The red reaper heaved a melodramatic sigh, flopping himself onto William's desk, scattering papers this way and that. "Ugh, Will, you're such a bore. Don't you remember what happened the last time I didn't have entertainment?"

The dark haired man gave his subordinate an unimpressed look. "You are, I presume, referring to the red paint incident?" At the answering nod, William commented lightly, "Might I remind you that that day ended much worse for you than it did for me?"

That was a false statement, of course. He had had to resubmit two dozen assorted documents and files that day, putting the branch even further behind than they already were. However, he saw no need to mention that particular fact to Sutcliff, who was in the process of making an utter mess of his work space.

William glared at the reaper. "Sutcliff..." he growled. "Yes, Will darling?" his subordinate asked cheekily, turning to bat his eyes at the dark haired man. "Kindly remove yourself from this office," William ordered.

Sutcliff gave a spectacular pout, leaning in until he was face-to-face with his superior. "But Wi~ll," he whined, poking the dark haired man's shoulder with a gloved finger, "I have absolutely nothing to do!"

The other reaper raised an incredibly skeptical eyebrow. "I am fairly certain you have yet to submit your past three mission reports, along with the obligatory Scythe Modification resubmission for the quarter century." Adjusting his glasses, he added, "If you manage to complete all that, I will consider your request."

Sutcliff pushed himself back up to standing, turning to leave. "Alright, Will!" he sang, grinning from ear to ear. "I'll see you soon - be ready for me, alright?"

As the redhead skipped from his office, William couldn't help a sigh of relief. He was sure he wouldn't be seeing his subordinate for the rest of the day, which was at least enough time to clear up the backlog.

How very wrong he was.

 **:::**

A half an hour later, Sutcliff strutted into his office.

William's eyebrows knitted. "Shouldn't you be finishing your work?" The red reaper slapped a stack of papers down with a sly grin, making his superior jump. "I did," he trilled.

The dark haired man frowned, then instinctively checked the documents. While they were filled in with red pen ('Honestly,' he groaned to himself), they were indeed quite completed, and decently, at that. William clenched his jaw to prevent it from dropping, gazing at Sutcliff in bewilderment. "Since when has this been done?" he asked weakly, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his subordinate had just completed something in a third the time it would have taken him.

Sutcliff's brow furrowed. "Er, since around a minute ago, I think." Heaving a sigh, he plopped his head down on William's desk, drawling, "And it took me ages to find the forms again; they'd been buried under my stationary for the past week."

The dark haired man stared in unabashed surprise. "How," he muttered, "how on Earth did you manage to complete those forms in such a short period of time, Sutcliff?"

Said reaper pointed to himself curiously, before answering, "It was just crunching numbers, really. I remembered all the dates and such that the souls were collected on; it was just a matter of doing the calculations." Tilting his head, he asked, "Why so surprised, Will? I've always been excellent with numbers; I've dealt with them all my life. They're cold and occasionally boring - why do you think I know how to handle you so well?"

William frowned slightly. "You realize I resent that remark."

The redhead giggled in reply, standing up. "But you resemble it, don't you?" Brushing his mane of hair out of his face, Sutcliff began bouncing around like an excited child. "So?" he asked delightedly. "What are we going to do? I did finish all the work you told me to, and we did make a deal, you know."

William gave him an impassive look. "I told you I would consider it. I've considered, and I refuse. Go entertain yourself. Or, better yet, get ahead on your work."

Sutcliff looked distraught. "But Will," he whined, "you told me we would do something together. You can't just go back on that now!"

William studiously ignored his pleading eyes. "I can and I will, Sutcliff."

"But-"

"Can. And. Will."

The other reaper's expression grew dark, before brightening into a devious smirk. 'Oh dear,' William thought. "Alright, Will," the redhead said primly. "I'll leave."

His superior glanced up at him. "Will you really?"

"Oh certainly."

"Well?" the dark haired man prompted. "Shouldn't you be going, then?"

Sutcliff held up an elegant finger. "On one condition."

'Blast.'

William's thoughts must have reflected on his face, because his subordinate began to smile. "Trust me, Will - you'll like this. It even involves getting work done."

William raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

The redhead's smile became a smirk. "Let's make a wager. I," he skated over to where William was sitting, dividing the papers on his desk in half with a flourish, "will take half of your work. You'll keep the other half. Whoever gets more done in the next," he glanced up at the clock on the far wall, "oh, let's make it the next hour wins. You win, and tomorrow I leave you alone unless the matter is of the utmost importance."

The dark haired man's eyebrows raised at the offer. "And if you win?"

Two-toned eyes gleamed behind red frames. "I win, and you take part of the day off and spend it with me." Sutcliff leant in close. "So," he sang, "do we have a deal?"

The corners of William's mouth twitched. "Remove yourself from my personal space," he finally decided, "and I accept."

 **:::**

The competition space was set up.

An extra chair had been put opposite William's on the other side of his desk, equal stacks of paperwork gracing each spot. A pen was present on each pile of paper, at complete odds with the period-appropriate décor. (While William generally stuck with using only items from whichever time period the mortal realm was currently in, even he wasn't above fudging the timeline a bit in interest of efficiency.)

From where he sat, Sutcliff's eyes were glued to the clock, drumming his fingers on the desk as he watched the hour hand tick closer to twelve. As it approached the number, he counted, "Three... Two... One... Go!"

William tore his gaze away from his subordinate to look at the first of his forms. Scanning it, he was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of relief that all reapers were required to learn how to fill out all possible types of paperwork; otherwise he may have found himself balancing a mountain of incorrect documents. Clearly, he hadn't been thinking straight at the moment of the bet.

Picking up his pen, William started correcting its errors, sighing as he noticed that Sutcliff had already taken the lead while his mind had been elsewhere. Narrowing his eyes, the dark haired man determinedly scribbled faster. If William had one major flaw, it was that if he were to become invested in a competition, he would attempt to win by all means necessary.

Time passed.

William took up a habit of glancing at the clock every five pages completed to see how much of the allotted hour remained, managing to breeze through fifteen packets in double as many minutes; his pride increasing his efficiency by nearly two-fold.

Sutcliff was - uncharacteristically enough - studiously ignoring him. Not that it was an unpleasant change - far from it - but it was... odd, seeing his subordinate actually do his work.

William shook his head, picking up his next form. Now wasn't the time to be distracted.

 **:::**

Three minutes remaining.

William daren't check the hour any longer for fear of losing time, nor look at Sutcliff for the same reason. However, he couldn't help a quick glance across the desk when he heard the unmistakable sound of a chair dragging across the floor and his subordinate letting out a grand sigh of relief. William's eyes focused on the scene in front of him and his pen dropped from his hand.

For Sutcliff was finished. He had, completely and utterly, finished his stack of forms. A cursory inspection showed that everything was all immaculate; filled out in neat handwriting with black ink (William had unequivocally denied the redhead's request to write in red).

"Will?" The voice shook the reaper out of his reverie. "You alright?"

Sutcliff was peering at him through his bangs in what could almost be considered concern. William, clearing his head with a blink, nodded curtly. Then he remembered the exact details of the wager he had agreed to. He sighed, eyebrows furrowing as he chastised himself for his idiocy. Perhaps he should be getting more rest - lack of sleep was clearly affecting his judgement.

The redhead in front of him tapped him on the shoulder. "You're busy, so I'll go for now. Meet me outside at ten - that's when you get off work, isn't it?"

The dark haired man heard himself respond. "Very well, Sutcliff."

His subordinate smiled (and it was odd, seeing a smile rather than a smirk gracing the reaper's face - though William decided to promptly abandon that train of thought as soon as it began to derail) and left the room with a flip of his hair.

William sighed. 'What in the world have I gotten myself into this time?'

 **:::**

Ten in the evening came sooner than William would have liked, and though the reaper did manage to tie up many loose ends he had been meaning to deal with for a while in the hours after the contest, he still had to suppress a sigh at the sight of his subordinate approaching his door. However, the dark haired man was one of honour, and he had lost (not counting the fact that Sutcliff's terms of the wager had been much more generous in William's favour than he would have expected from the frankly self-centred redhead), thus he adjusted his glasses and went out to greet the other reaper when he heard three sharp knocks.

Opening the door, William was greeted with a deceivingly innocent smile. "Hello, Will," greeted the chaos personified standing in from of him.

With tremendous effort, the dark haired reaper held in a long suffering sigh. "Sutcliff," he said slowly, eyebrow twitching in annoyance, "what are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" The redhead grinned at his superior, giving a little twirl to better show off his outfit. "Just a little something I thought might fit the mood. Come now, Will; it's cute! Don't be such a killjoy."

"'Cute' is most certainly not the word I would use to describe that," William muttered. And indeed it wasn't.

'Striking,' he thought. That was the best way to describe the effect the general public was given when they viewed a mad redhead in an obsidian coat trimmed in scarlet, dark gloves trailing into flared sleeves. The reaper's black slacks and vest matched his coat, the gold buttons on the latter gleaming in the lights of the office. A red velvet bow tie adorned the outfit. But the real cause for shock, William realized, was the man's hair.

Oh, it was still a bright crimson; Sutcliff hadn't changed that. It was still the same length, however much combat with long hair blatantly disregarded common sense. But its style, now that was different.

It had been pulled back into a tight braid that spiralled down the reaper's back, a few locks expertly left loose and curled. The normally wild bangs had been combed neatly to each side. It was tied with a ribbon in the same material as the reaper's bow tie.

It was, in short, the hairstyle of a lady.

And the problem was it looked almost natural on Sutcliff.

William frowned disapprovingly, though whether it was at what his subordinate was sporting or his own off-topic train of thought was debatable. He really needed to get the man under control. For Sutcliff to be distracting to even him now? Honestly.

The red reaper, apparently somehow knowing exactly what was going on in William's mind, smirked knowingly but said nothing.

The dark haired man raised an elegant eyebrow. "Well then?" he prompted wearily. "Shall we get this over with?"

Sutcliff pouted in mock offence, but then laughed and grabbed hold of an uncooperative William's arm. "Indeed we shall, Will darling!"

And with that, the intrepid duo left the office.

 **:::**

"Well, Sutcliff? Where exactly are we off to?"

The redhead glanced idly at his superior, who had paused on the rooftop of a two-story building overlooking the Thames to make his inquiry, and blinked. "I didn't tell you, did I?"

"No."

"Oh. Well," he grinned (and William suddenly became very apprehensive), "we're going out to a show!"

William coughed. Paused. Coughed again. "...excuse me?"

Sutcliff clapped his hands together in excitement. "The theatre, Will, the theatre!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out and spinning in circles. His coat flared and hair fanned at the action, and the dark haired man found himself dodging to avoid being struck by them.

The red reaper looked to him. "I was hoping Romeo and Juliet would be on, but alas, we shall have to content ourselves with Hamlet. Oh well! I do think any tragedy will do for tonight." Tilting his head, Sutcliff added, "And I suppose you wouldn't be the romance type, would you?"

"That is not a classification I would give myself, no."

The redhead barked out a laugh. "I didn't think so. Now come along; if we're late I will pitch a fit!"

Sutcliff turned on his heels and began to bound away in the direction of the theatre, and, with great reluctance, William followed.

 **:::**

The Globe Theatre was certainly grand, William reflected as Sutcliff waltzed inside, babbling on about the history of the building. But something wasn't right. The dark haired man couldn't quite put his finger on what, but there was something off about the place.

As they lingered in the hall outside the auditorium itself, Sutcliff turned to face him, frowning slightly. "Will," he muttered, just loud enough for the other reaper to pick up, "is it just me, or are you getting an odd feeling as well?" William nodded, and the redhead grimaced. "And I suppose we should check it out, hmm? And I was so looking forward to that play, too." He pouted, before brightening. "Perhaps if we work fast enough, we'll deal with this whatever it is in time to see the show!"

William seriously doubted that, but he obligingly allowed his subordinate to drag him along to the origin of the unusual aura.

 **:::**

In the clearing behind the Globe, the presence looked around, only to see that everything had changed.

 **:::**

Sutcliff strode into the clearing. "Around here," he decided. "But what is it?"

The question gave William pause. "I'm ... not entirely sure," he admitted. "The aura is not that of a human, but it's unfamiliar. Almost like a mixture of human and reaper..."

"But not quite," the redhead agreed. "But it's certainly no supernatural I know of. It's closest..." He paused, weighing his words. "It's closest to when a soul refuses to come quietly when it's being reaped."

William breathed in sharply, paling. "Of course. A ghost."

His subordinate looked at him with a peculiar expression. "Ghost? Really?" The tone was closer to puzzlement than skepticism, but a hint of the latter emotion was still present.

William carefully schooled his features back to neutrality, replying, "Yes, Sutcliff. A ghost. While not officially recognized as a separate category of supernatural creature, seeing as they are merely souls who escaped collection and have been wandering this plane for a long enough period of time, they do pop up periodically and it is a reaper's duty to deal with the situation when they do."

Sutcliff scowled, then nodded. "Alright," he concluded, "fine, so there's a ghost on the loose. How do we get rid of it?"

"I..." William paused. "I believe that as it retains its consciousness and soul, we must convince it to come with us to be collected. Once it is properly stored, we can send the soul back to whichever Division it originally should have been reaped in."

"Very well," his subordinate concluded. "So where is it- oh." Whirling towards his immediate right, the redhead snapped, "Oi! You! Stop skulking in the bushes and get out here!"

A shimmering figure emerged from the bush Sutcliff was pointing at.

"How did you know I was there?" the young ghost asked, a scowl marring his face and his eyes sharp, observant. He was wearing an outdated military uniform, though William didn't recognize to which country it belonged. Judging by the man's accent, however, he could hazard a guess.

Sutcliff sized the soul up, then, coming to the same conclusion as William, said, "You're from the Colonies, aren't you? How did you get here?"

The man gave the redhead a dark look. "And you're a Brit. I'm not giving up any information."

Superior and subordinate shared a glance, before Sutcliff spoke once more. "What year is it?"

"What?"

"I asked," Sutcliff demanded, hands perched on hips, "what year is it?"

The ghost paused, furrowing his eyebrows. "Seventeen... Seventeen eighty-something?" he replied. Then, more frantically, "Seventeen eighty-what? I should know this!"

"And how's the revolution going?"

William looked to Sutcliff, who was staring resolutely at the ghost, and nodded slightly. The American revolution certainly explained the uniform and hostility.

The man seemed taken aback by the question. "It's ... it's been won. We ... won," he breathed. "That's what happened. But they didn't know that, did they?"

Sutcliff turned to William. Didn't know that? he mouthed. His superior shrugged in reply.

The ghost began muttering to himself, so quietly the reapers couldn't make out what he was saying, and pacing frantically, occasionally running a hand through his hair. Suddenly he came to a stop, eyes wide, shaking. "I'm- I'm d-." He whirled around to face Sutcliff. "What year is it?"

The redhead raised an elegant eyebrow. "Didn't I already ask you that question?"

The ghost's eye twitched. "Fine," he spat. "What year is it actually?"

Sutcliff grinned sharply, showing off his teeth. "Ding ding ding, we have a winner!" he exclaimed. "The year, kid, is eighteen eighty-nine."

The ghost seemed to pale. "No. How-" he stuttered, "how long have I been dead?"

Sutcliff shrugged. "Not sure, actually. What was going on at your time of death?"

The young man frowned, but before he got the chance to reply, Sutcliff cut in. "Actually, what's your name? It's annoying having to just call you 'The Ghost'."

The ghost bit his lip, obviously debating whether or not to give up his name to the enemy, but in the end he relented. "John," he said, slumping. "I'm John."

The redhead grinned, then swept himself into an exaggerated bow. "Grell Sutcliff, at your service."

William gave the young spirit a nod. "William T. Spears," he introduced. "And I too find myself curious as to how your soul ended up unaccounted for. What were the circumstances of your death?"

The ghost - John - frowned, dropping to a cross-legged seating position and sighing. "I'm not sure I even want to know what you two mean by 'soul unaccounted for'," he started, "but here's what I remember from when I- what I remember last.

"My men and I were fighting in Carolina when we heard we had won. Well, we heard. The redcoats didn't. We were caught up in a fight when... when..."

He trailed off, scowling. "I can't remember anything after that."

Sutcliff and William exchanged glances. The disorder of the American Revolution had left the fledgeling colonial divisions scrambling to account for all souls. It was no wonder they had missed a few.

The dark haired reaper narrowed his eyes, pushing up his glasses. Now came the difficult task.

Sutcliff, seemingly reading his mind, cracked his knuckles. "Well," he said, "let's get this over with."

 **:::**

"So you're saying," said John, cradling a turtle he had found crawling around in the clearing, "you guys screwed up when I died, and so my soul wasn't 'collected' properly?"

Sutcliff shrugged. "Pretty much. All the Americans were newbies at that point, and even with the help of a few reapers from England, they still had a full-fledged war on their hands. Those are never fun." He smoothed out his coat dramatically. "The seriousness, the paperwork, the overtime. If it weren't for the sheer violence I would refuse to participate at all. Well, that and the abundance of handsome reapers there."

William narrowed his eyes. "Sutcliff," he intoned. "Kindly refrain from making unnecessary comments."

"But Will," the redhead pouted, clinging to and shaking his superior's arm. "I'm just telling the truth! Wars really are no fun- ack!"

William brushed himself off, paying no mind to the reaper stumbling away after having been forcibly shook off the dark haired man's arm, and turned towards John. "As reapers," he informed the ghost, who was at the moment trying to ascertain the turtle didn't escape his clutches, "it is our duty to account for all dead souls - yours included." Leaning forward, his glasses gleaming, William added, "You can surely see how it would be a problem on our end of things should souls be roaming about unchecked. Therefore, we must ask you to agree to be sent to the afterlife - and to do so peacefully would be preferable."

Out of the corner of his eye, William noticed Sutcliff wincing. Drawing back, he muttered, "What?"

"And they say I have no tact," his subordinate merely replied. Stepping forwards, the redhead motioned to (the admittedly more intimidated now) John. "Look, kid," he said. "It's not fun, sure, but you're not supposed to still be here. You can stay here, scared and confused, or you can be reaped peacefully and see your friends and family again." He shrugged. "Now, I know what I'd pick, but in the end the choice is yours. If you run fast enough, you'll be able to avoid us and other reapers."

William was scowling by this point, and reached forward to tap his subordinate on the shoulder. "Sutcliff," he grit out, "kindly do not tell the spirit this information."

The redhead raised an elegant eyebrow, tilting his head to face his superior. "If this kid was in the war and led a command, he's gonna be smart enough to know how to run away from us. He's got a chance; I'm not going to lie." Turning back to John, Sutcliff cocked his head to the side. "You can run. But if you do, you won't get to the afterlife. And you have people you want to see again - don't you?"

John was biting his lower lip. "Yeah," he finally got out.

He put his turtle down.

"Will it hurt?"

"Hurt?"

John glanced at them. "This whole... reaping thing."

The reapers shared a look. 'What do we tell him?'

William smoothed out his suit jacket. "Doubtful."

It was a lucky break that the ghost was too busy sighing in relief to notice how Sutcliff's jaw had dropped. The redhead shot his superior a questioning glance that promised they would discuss that answer later.

In any case, that seemed to have settled the matter for John. "Okay," he said. "Okay, let's do this."

Before Sutcliff could whip out his absurd chainsaw and frighten the ghost into changing his mind, William summoned his death scythe. The pruning pole's weight was familiar as he raised it to eye level, then lowered it until it touched the ground. "Are you prepared?" he inquired.

The ghost replied with a shaky nod, closing his eyes.

"Sutcliff?"

"On it." The red reaper summoned a book to contain the soul.

"Very well."

William lashed out with the scythe, slicing it into John's chest. It stuck there as the ghost's records flew out of the wound, twisting and twirling in the air almost peacefully. John's form began to disappear, disintegrating from his feet up. The records flew into the book in Sutcliff's hands.

John smiled. "Raise a glass to freedom."

And then he was gone.

"Well," said Sutcliff. "That was eventful."

William resisted a most childish urge to roll his eyes, settling for muttering, "Honestly" with a huff.

Sutcliff just laughed.

 **:::**

William's scythe had been returned to his office, the book containing John's soul had been arranged to be sent to America, Sutcliff's makeup had been reapplied, and the two reapers were back outside the Globe, watching the humans mill about.

"Damn," Sutcliff cursed. "Missed everything until the Intermission." He lightened up. "Well, at least we'll be able to watch from here on, I suppose."

William sighed, then reluctantly offered, "Since I missed the beginning, would you inform me as to what is going on in this spectacle?"

The red reaper adjusted his coat. "You want me to tell you about Hamlet, Will?" he asked. "Really?"

William shrugged. "I quite doubt that watching the end of a play I have no prior knowledge of will be enjoyable, so yes. Enlighten me."

Sutcliff blinked, then grinned. "Alright," he said, "it all begins in Denmark."

 **:::**

The plot had concluded, the actors had taken their final bows, and Sutcliff was grinning like a madman. "Oh, I simply adore Shakespeare!"

"I must admit, it was an interesting play," William acknowledged, nodding his head. "Even if it would have been much simpler for Hamlet to have disposed of his uncle when he first heard the news."

Sutcliff laughed. "Oh Will, you're such a spoilsport."

William shrugged. The statement was true, after all.

The red reaper looked off into the distance as they walked away from the theatre. "By the way, Will," he asked, glancing at his superior, "why did you lie to John? We have no clue as to whether reaping a soul is painless or not."

William stared straight ahead. "It would not have been beneficial for us to have him put up a struggle. If lying is what it takes to facilitate a reaping, than lie I shall."

It was true. William refused to admit that it may not have been the whole truth.

Sutcliff shook his head, giggling. "You are something else, Will. Oh well. Just makes it more fun to do things like this, I suppose."

"Things like wha-"

And with that, Sutcliff broke out into a broad, sharp-toothed grin and began to cling to his shoulder.

"Sutcliff! Release me at once!"

"I don't wa~nna!"

"Sutcliff, I will drown you in paperwork."

"Sure you will, Will!"

And with that, the bickering reapers disappeared back to their realm. And as he threatened to give Sutcliff overtime for the next quarter century, William reflected that perhaps it hadn't been such a bad night.

Perhaps he didn't mind taking a break from time to time, after all.

 **:::**

 **So what did you think? Anybody know who John is? (Lol probably. I really wasn't being subtle about it.) Also thanks to the lovely reviews from Guest and Aquafairyrobot! You guys keep me going.**

 **Next chapter is gonna be a lot of fun to write. Humiliating William is always a good time.**

 **See ya!**

 **-UA**


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